The Family Business
by peteynorth
Summary: Fifteen years have passed since Dick Grayson first took the role of Batman full time, and much has changed.  Once again a Wayne bears the mantle, and a Grayson orphan discovers his family's past, present, and his own likely future.  No F-bombs, but PG-13.
1. Chapter 1

The two men sprinted around the corner, one nearly stumbling to the street as he slightly misjudged the curb height, and both exhausted and terrified. The lead man, the more sure-footed of the two and carrying a revolver in his right hand, slowed to a stop and leaned over, sucking and spitting air as quickly as he could muster. "Hold up Luis. I think we lost him."

"Eres loco, nobody loses the Bat!" Luis gasped back as he caught his balance and reluctantly slowed to a stop.

"It's not like we're the Joker or Darwin's Scalpel, cabrone!" The gun-wielding man replied, standing up straight. "We didn't do nothin' wrong!"

"We all know that that statement is not true." A growl emanated from the shadows of the nearest alley. "But yes, normally you worms would be unworthy of my attention." The Batman stepped out onto the street. "So provide me the information I desire, relinquish that firearm, and you'll walk away from this free and unscathed."

"Eat a dick, put…" the armed man bellowed as he directed his weapon at the vigilante, only to have the large intended target cut the distance between them in the blink of an eye and break his forearm with a chop. "Ooohh!"

Batman grabbed the failed gunman by the throat and hoisted him into the air. "Arturo Sandoval! Where is he?"

"Chinga teeehhhhh!" The defiant thug groan under the tightening grip.

"We don't know where he is, I swear!" Luis chimed in as he backed away slowly, his hands up in front of him, open-faced in a display of submission. "He became some meth head piece of shit. I haven't seen him in months. Please stop hurting my friend."

"I believe you, Luis." The Batman ominously growled as he brought his snarling face to within a couple inches of the man he was strangling. "But Antonio here keeps in regular contact with Mr. Sandoval. He may not have fallen as deeply down the rabbit hole as Arturo, but he enjoys partaking in the using of cheap, mind altering chemicals with your old friend from time to time. Isn't that right, Antonio." Antonio could only glare at the Batman and further contort his red, oxygen deprived face before dropping to the ground as the vigilante released his grasp.

"Maybe that's true, but what did Arturo do so bad that makes it necessary to torture my friend here?" Luis asked.

Batman spun savagely and marched toward the now terrified Luis. "What did he do?" The Batman bellowed. "What did he do? He tore the light from the life of the only man I will ever call brother! A man I would die a thousand painful deaths for! A man who led me back to a humanity that I had discarded, a man who took me from the path of destruction and improved me in every way! A man who had his heart torn from his chest by your friend Arturo Sandoval!"

"Whaa?" Luis backpedalled away from the oncoming vigilante while Antonio continued gasping for air on the ground. "Your broth…Gordon! You mean Arturo was the guy who hit Gordon's daughter? I didn't know!"

"Now you do!" Batman came to a halt and spun back toward the man hunched over panting on the ground. "And this is most definitely not news to Antonio!" Batman reached down and grabbed the lapels of Antonio's leather jacket, hoisting him back up so that his feet dangled several inches off the ground, and slammed the man hard against the brick wall of the building behind him. "Isn't that right, Antonio?"

"Eat shit. Whatchu gonna do, beat me up some more?" Antonio defiantly questioned. "The Bat don't kill. He never kills, everyone knows that."

The vigilante leaned in close and his gravelly voice turned ice cold. "I swear to every god that's ever been worshipped, and on the lives and souls of myself and everyone I've ever held dear, that I have killed before. I have taken human lives Antonio." Batman's opaque white optics retracted into his cowl, allowing the eyes beneath to bore into those of the captive Antonio. "Just because you are unaware of something, does not mean it has not happened." A hard sneer came over the mouth of the enraged vigilante. "And those I have killed were over matters of far less importance to me than this. So I'm going to ask you nicely just one last time…" the bravado and defiance that Antonio had been displaying drained from him and was quickly replaced by a look of dread, "where is Arturo Sandoval?"

"Bluuuhh…Bludhaven, Zee Moores." Antonio spit out. "Nineteen D."

Batman released him and stepped back, watching as the man slumped to the ground. "Any attempt to contact him will be met with a series of injuries that you will never fully recover from." The dark vigilante raised his arm from inside his cape, a grapnel in hand, launched it up to the roof of the building Antonio was sitting back against, and ascended into the night sky.

"Shit man, you OK?" Luis asked his friend.

"Get me to a hospital."

XXXXX

Batman stepped onto the roof and began to remotely instruct the Batmobile to shift to flight mode and rendezvous with him a block over. His preparations were interrupted by a familiar distorted voice in his earpiece. "I've forwarded this information to Commissioner Rohrbach in Bludhaven. It's three A.M., let her handle this and return to the cave."

"Who is this?" Batman roared. "How dare you?"

The modulated voice was replaced by that of a teenage girl. "Whoah, sorry about that. Babs must have left the voice modulator on the last time she..."

Batman visibly relaxed, but a small portion of his irritation immediately returned. "Why did you bring the BPD into this? I want Sandoval!"

"That's the main reason I contacted Amy." The girl replied. "The state you're in, you very well might lose control and kill the bastard. Besides, you need to get some sleep for tomorrow. We need to be fresh and ready in case we need to be leaned on."

"I will be there for him should he need me," Batman replied, still agitated, "but he of all people would understand me having bags under my eyes; at least as long as I had Sandoval's head in my hand."

"He'd understand, but would they?" The girl replied. "You have a niece and nephew that will need their uncle at their side to ward off the paparazzi and the societal leaches that will undoubtedly use this to suck up to them. So come home big brother."

Batman exhaled as he nodded. "On my way."

XXXXX

"The wake is today." The middle aged man mentioned to the pre-teen boy sitting on the large chair in the well furnished office.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?" The man, a therapist, asked.

"I don't know." The boy replied, his azure eyes glued to the carpet.

"That's fair. It's pretty much impossible for anyone, much less a young man of twelve, to articulate the maelstrom of emotions that something like this brings about." The therapist replied as he pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. "I know that this may be difficult, and feel free to decline doing so if you'd rather not, but I think it might help if you were to relate what happened."

The boy nodded, closed his eyes tightly, fighting against tears, before finally speaking. "Mom was picking me up from gymnastics practice at the high school." The boy reached up and wiped a stray tear from the outside of his left eye with his sleeve.

"I thought that you were to start the seventh grade this fall." The therapist commented.

"I am." The boy replied. "I took my sister to the park a few weeks back and started doing a fairly elaborate pommel horse routine on the beams that connect the monkey bars." The boy blushed and shrugged. "I try to be humble, but I do like to show off from time to time. Anyway, Doug Bevel, the varsity gymnastics coach for the local high school was there with his kids, and freaked out when he saw me, insisting that I practice with his squad."

"Wow John, you must be quite good." The therapist replied.

"I come from a long line of circus acrobats, so I guess it's in my blood. Plus, Dad's an amazing teacher, honestly, he's better than guys half his age in the Olympics." The boy shrugged and then continued on with the original discussion. "Anyway, Mom was waiting for me in her van after practice," John paused for a moment, peering seemingly vacantly at the floor, before continuing, "I was reaching for the passenger side door handle when a speeding car cut over to our side of the street and slammed into the front, driver's side corner." The brown haired boy shook his head. "The impact sent the van into me, which knocked me to the ground. I hit my head on the pavement and was dazed for a few seconds, but I know I started forcing myself up at the sound of the car squealing its tires to pull free of the van and then speed off. I got to Mom," the child paused to swallow an imminent sob, "her body was twisted, blood was flowing out of her mouth, but she was still alive. Her eyes looked to me, and…she said nothing. She died before she could say anything." The child turned his head away from the therapist and clenched his eyes shut, fighting back the tears. "Keep it together Grayson!" John whispered harshly to himself.

"John, there's no shame in crying about your mother's passing." The therapist commented as he leaned forward and placed his arm on the boy's shoulder. "It's only been three days since her death, there's no way for you to have come to terms with it yet. That'll likely take years."

"I've been preparing myself for this for years, Dr. Cornell." John growled through clenched teeth as he continued his fight against the tears.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm the child of orphans. The adopted grandson of this city's most famous orphan. The nephew of orphans." John twisted and glared at the middle aged man with tears just now emerging from his eyes. "It's damn near a genetic trait."

"You cannot allow yourself to believe that, John!" Dr. Cornell responded softly but with emphasis. "Yes, your family has been stricken with more than its due share of tragedy, but it is not your fault, or your destiny. You must realize this."

Continuing to stare at the floor, John nodded. "Yeah, I know, just feeling sorry for myself again."

"You need to stop doing that as well." Dr. Cornell asserted.

"Doing what?"

"The constant berating of yourself." The therapist replied. "You're a young boy who's just lost his mother. You're entitled to feel loss. You're entitled to some sympathy, even from yourself. And from what your father told me prior to this session, you've been overly hard on yourself for years; to the point where he described it as self-cruelty. Which is a sharp contrast to how you treat everyone else. Do you have feelings of inadequacy or self loathing John?"

"Inadequacy?" John looked up and cocked an eyebrow at the doctor. "No, that's not it. That's not it at all. I'm adequate. Like everyone else in my family, I've been blessed with every gift a person could be blessed with, and born into a family of extreme wealth and limitless love. And yet, with all these gifts, I've done nothing. Self loathing might be near the mark I guess, but that's deserved."

"Nonsense. From what I've been told, you're a straight A student and far and away the best athlete in your school." Dr. Cornell interrupted. "Not to mention an excellent older brother to your eight year old sister. Your father mentioned you spend several evenings each week volunteering at any number of the Wayne Foundation's charities, as well as being beloved by your friends and teachers. From what I can tell, you're an outstanding young man who is being unjustifiably hard on himself."

"They're just things to do, things that are more productive that other things I guess, but it still doesn't change the fact that I've been given everything and will likely accomplish nothing." John looked back down at the floor. "The world won't be any better off for me having been in it."

"John, that's a horrible, and quite frankly, very inaccurate thing to say." Dr. Cornell interrupted. "What makes you say such a terrible thing?"

"Because the only one in my family who took pride in being worth a damn is dead." John snapped, and then broke down in tears. "Well, Jim's still alive, and Alfred, but…" the boy looked up at the therapist and took an apologetic look "I'm sorry, don't get me wrong, I love my family, every member, but aside from my mother, Grandpa Jim and my Great Grandfather Alfred, every one of them turns into a vapid douche bag as soon as they're in public. And I'd be OK with it if they were even remotely like that, but they're not. That couldn't be further from the truth!"

"Please explain." Cornell requested quietly, intent on letting the child follow this tangent to its end.

"Alright, take Grandpa Bruce for example." John shifted on the couch. "Public perception is that he's a quasi-alcoholic idiot who doesn't do anything other than childishly live off his ancestors' fortune, diminish his father's memory and ogle women when his wife isn't looking. But in reality, he's easily the smartest man I've ever known." John shook his head angrily and then looked away. "And given how brilliant my father, uncles and mother is…well, was, that's saying a lot." John noted the slight skepticism on the therapist's face. "Yeah, I know Bruce's public image, and I don't blame your skepticism, but believe me, we've had discussions around the dinner table regarding every subject matter imaginable that would leave the experts in those particular fields utterly dumbfounded. I even overheard Alfred mention to my father once that Bruce had long since eclipsed his father's intellect. His father; Dr. Thomas Wayne! You know, Gotham's patron saint, the man that developed the Allerton's Vaccine which saved the lives of thousands, the man that ranked in at number six on Time Magazine's most impressive minds of the Twentieth Century, you know, that guy? Well, according to Alfred, Bruce is smarter, and what's even stranger, I have no doubt he's right, and that everyone else in the family isn't far behind him, especially Uncle Tim." John displayed a weak smile and shrugged. "Of course, everyone then eats a moron sandwich before going out in public."

"Really?" The doctor was more intrigued than convinced.

"I've personally listened to Bruce converse, with perfect fluency as far as I could tell, in no less than nine different languages. And not just Romance languages, but Farsi and Japanese." John stared earnestly at the therapist. "I've been called either beyond gifted or a flat out genius by every teacher I've ever had, and I only know six languages outside of English, and in all but a couple of those my accent is atrocious."

Cornell nodded. "So why the secrecy? You'd think that being smart would be something the members of the Wayne family would want to publicize."

John shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they like the negative stereotypes they've been assigned. Dad's just a watered down Bruce, lazy, empty headed and worthless, but willing and able to take on the role of family man which makes him a little less detestable to the press and public. Uncle Tim's traveling the world, the pretext being that he's heading WayneTech Security Systems division, but the perception is that he's just living out one long vacation. Uncle Damian is just reliving his father's life, leaving anything resembling work to others, womanizing, and partying all the time. And the funny thing is, none of its true." A crooked smile came to the boy's face. "Well, Damian does get a lot of play, but other than that, none of it is true."

"And your grandmother, she's not the gold digging ex-con who sees marrying the multi-billionaire as her biggest score?" The therapist asked, eliciting a chuckle from the boy.

"If she ever heard you refer to her as a grandmother, she'd gut you like a trout." John smiled. "And no, that perception is off about Selena as well, though she really doesn't try to fuel it like the others do. She's genuinely head over heels in love with Bruce, there's no question about that, at least to any of us that know her well enough to see past her tough independent act. As for Aunt Helena, me and Sarah, I guess we're too young for the press to vilify yet."

The therapist nodded. "Well perhaps a discussion for another time. Right now I'd like to get your reaction to the news that your mother's alleged killer was captured in Bludhaven this morning."

"Yeah, I heard Dad's cell phone ring shortly after four. I had been awake for almost an hour at that point. Dad must not have been sleeping either as it only rang once before he got it." A perplexed look came over John's face. "I was out of bed the moment the ring sounded, and was out the door walking toward Dad's room almost instantly, a little dazed, I must have been trying to get to it before it woke him or something, but as I got outside his room, I heard him thank Amy and that he had been expecting her call." The boy looked at the therapist. "How he knew to expect her call, I don't know. Just another weird thing about my family I guess." The boy shrugged.

"And how did you feel when you heard he had been apprehended?"

"Relieved I guess." The boy shrugged, and then looked up at the therapist. "And please don't refer to him as my Mom's alleged killer. Arturo Sandoval killed her. I saw his face, I have my mother's photographic memory, identified him through his mug shots, and that was even before the police got the security footage of him stealing the car he killed her with. Leave the alleged disclaimer to the press who need it to cover their ass."

"Duly noted." Cornell smiled. "So a large burden was lifted upon hearing the news this morning?"

"Well, sort of." John looked away toward the window. "Honestly, I'd have preferred it if I miraculously had found him myself, and been able to look into his eyes as I choked the life out of him. See the hope of survival slowly ebb, the panic arise at the realization that this was it, and then feel the life drain from the waste of flesh he called a body." He looked back down at the floor. "It would be so easy, I may be half his age but I'm already his size, I'm stronger, faster, harder and with what Dad and Damian have taught me…" the boy seemed to trail off for a moment, but then his face twisted painfully into a scowl and he clenched his eyes tight. "I uselessly stood by and let my mother die, and now, now I can't even avenge her."

Dr. Cornell leaned forward to offer the boy a comforting hand on his shoulder, but a knock at the door interrupted the session. The door opened slightly and the therapist's receptionist poked her head in. "I'm sorry to disturb you Dr. Cornell, but Mr. Grayson's grandfather is here and mentioned that they need to leave now."

"Of course Sandy, please inform him that John will be right out." Dr. Cornell replied. The door shut and the therapist returned his attention to the boy seated on the couch next to his chair. "I hate to end our session at this juncture, but…"

"Yeah, I know." John looked up at the therapist before standing. "Thanks Doc."

"You're welcome John." The doctor escorted the boy to the door and followed him into the well furnished waiting room, where John's maternal grandfather was waiting for him. "Commissioner Gordon, you have my deepest condolences. By all accounts, Barbara was nothing short of an angel. I'm so sorry."

"I appreciate that Doctor." Jim Gordon shook the man's hand and looked sorrowfully at his grandson. "And it's been just plain old Mr. Gordon for the last six and a half years."

"Sir, you will always be Commissioner Gordon in this town." Cornell smiled at the man, and then looked over at the boy. "You have a very special young man here, if there's anything either of you need from me…"

"Thanks, we'll take you up on that if we need to." Jim replied before placing his hand on John's shoulder and guiding him out of the office.

XXXXX

He watched the two girls sitting in the grass, the bottoms of their black dresses draped over their respective legs as the older of the two was saying something to the girl that was half her age. The younger of the two, an eight year old that would clearly grow up to be an absolute knock out, just peered into the immaculately maintained lawn and seemed to let the words of her sixteen year old aunt wash over her, appearing to barely register with the child. The older girl, one every bit as beautiful as her niece but darker and possessing a slightly exotic look, wasn't the least bit deterred by the child's apparent lack of attention to what she was saying. She must have recognized that it wasn't the content of her words that mattered to the bereaved child, but her presence and her support.

Dick continued to watch them from the window of his childhood bedroom, wishing there were something, anything, he could do to alleviate the pain his children were feeling, a pain he was all too familiar with. He had been John's age when his parents had been killed, and Sarah was the age Bruce was when his parents were taken. They at least had their father, Dick thought, but their father would likely be half the man he used to be without Barbara there to lend her strength to him. No, for them he would always maintain his strength, his composure. And they had more than just their father to lean on. They had all the Waynes, and Jim, and of course Alfred, who had sheltered so many through such similar horrors, though now at eighty-five he couldn't be expected to bear the brunt of guiding another set of orphans back into the light. These were Dick's children, and he would be the one to bear that brunt.

The room had been silent the entire time Dick had been in there, and though it was still just as silent as it had been when he entered, Dick noticed the difference in the room, one imperceptible to all but a handful of people on the planet. "Welcome home little brother."

Tim Drake Wayne stepped out of the doorway and into the room. "Jesus Dick, I don't know what to say." Tim looked down sadly and shook his head. "I'd do anything for this reunion to be under any other set of circumstances. I'm so sorry." Tim continued approaching his older adoptive brother, who finally turned and embraced him.

"Thanks for coming, Timmy." Dick said as they released their hug. "I'm a little surprised the Wall let you off for this."

Tim displayed a tiny shrug. "Don't be. She likes to act confrontational in front of bats, but quite frankly she might be your biggest fan. And she loved Babs. Often called her the greatest asset to come out of the cape community, even more so than the Kryptonian."

Dick smiled proudly. "Clark, Diana, Bruce and I may have been the leaders the press loved to do stories on, but Oracle was the real Commander in Chief of every gaudily garbed do-gooder."

Tim smiled as well and peered out the window. "How are the kids holding up?"

Dick exhaled as he too looked out the window. "Sarah's been crying nearly non-stop since it happened. It may not look like much, but Helena's pulling off a miracle right now. Sarah's been pretty much tear-free the entire time I've been watching them."

"She's strong, just like her parents." Tim offered. "It'll be hard, but she'll pull through this."

"Yeah." Dick muttered. "But no child should ever have to pull through something like this."

"And how's John holding up?"

"He's angry." Dick replied. "He's always been hard on himself, but now he's blaming himself for what happened to Babs."

"Par for the course in this house." Tim offered. "You know what's always been a good outlet for what he's currently feeling?"

"Don't you start too." Dick stopped Tim's suggestion before it was made. "Damian's been less than subtle about that since taking the mantle." The older man noted the younger man wince at the mention of Damian taking the mantle, but let it go without addressing it. "Babs didn't want it, and quite frankly, I don't want it either."

"Look Dick, I understand your reticence, but if ever there was someone equipped in every conceivable way to strap on the yellow cape…" Tim countered.

"Tim, have you ever considered the absolute terror that must have shot through your father when he found out you were Robin?" Dick countered.

"Have I ever considered it?" Tim asked dumbfounded.

"Sorry, of course you have." Dick answered apologetically. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but I'm now in a position to empathize with what Jack went through, and the idea of Johnny out there scares the hell out of me. Is he perfect for the role?" Dick shrugged. "Absolutely. He'd be the best of us. But that doesn't change the fact that he'd still be just a boy in a world of well armed criminals, super villains, psychopaths and demons. And all it takes is one bullet, one blade slipping past his block, one explosion, one fall or any number of other ways for his life to come to an end. And I'm sorry, as much as Damian could use a Robin right now, I'm not willing to risk something so precious."

"Don't apologize Dick." Tim responded. "I get it, trust me, I get it. Believe it or not, I'm a little fond of the critter too."

"That critter isn't much shorter than you and I are." Dick commented.

"Really? I guess I have been gone a long time." Tim smiled. "Makes sense I guess, Babs was almost six feet. You always did have a thing for tall redheads." Dick snorted at the observation. "So Damian's been after him, huh?"

"Yeah, dropping suggestions whenever he's out of earshot, commenting on skill sets that would carry over into the job, his physical and mental attributes." Dick shook his head. "He's even been training him in martial arts."

"Haven't you been training John and Sarah?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, but I keep to stuff they could learn in local schools, high level but still just forms that if they needed to use, wouldn't make them stand out too much. Aikido, Jeet Kune Do, Kenpo, BJJ, boxing and wrestling. Styles that if Harvey Dent happened to be walking by as John was kicking the shit out of a mugger, he wouldn't slap his scarred head and declare 'hey, there's Robin!' But then a few months back I'm sparring with him, thinking I'm about to lock him up in some sort of arm bar, and he busts out this old school hajutsu – nage combination that leaves me planted on my ass wondering what the hell just happened." Tim chuckled at the image. "Yeah, laugh it up, but the proficiency with which he utilized those moves made it abundantly clear that somebody, a teacher at least on our level, had been working with him for months, if not longer."

"Could have been weeks, he did inherit Barbara's photographic memory." Tim replied.

"No, it was at least months. His mind might have known the moves, but he'd still need lots of experience to get the muscle memory to that level." Dick emphasized. "He didn't just perform the moves, they came from him so naturally that it was like watching him breathing while he sleeps. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you it was like having Cassie perform that move." Tim's chuckle evolved into a more heart-felt laugh. "Needless to say, he knew right away that he'd let the cat out of the bag by doing that. I looked up at him and simply asked how long Damian had been training him. He just flashed my Dad's grin and claimed he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Another reason he should be Robin." Tim replied. "Just ask Selina; that Grayson smile was your deadliest weapon."

Dick smiled weakly as he peered back at his sister and daughter outside. "Perhaps, but Babs said no."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, Babs said no."

XXXXX

"Clear a path!" The police officers called out to the throng of reporters that were gathered in front of the Wayne Manor gates. A sedan was approaching, and one of the officers walked toward it to see if they were on the guest list for the wake. The officer stopped abruptly as he caught sight of the driver, stepped to the side to get out of the car's way and called back to his comrades before saluting the car. "It's the Commissioner!" The other police officers sent a glare toward the reporters that made it clear that even the slightest non-compliance would be met with the most severe punishment possible. The reporters, either due to respect for former Police Commissioner Gordon or fear of reprisals from the officers, stepped back and allowed the car to go through the gate unmolested.

Just as the crowd started to re-gather before the gate, the rev of a powerful engine turned their attention back toward the road leading to the gate, where a classic red Tesla Roadster was pulling toward them. The first officer looked at the driver and nodded. "It's Mr. Wayne." He called to his colleagues.

"Which one?" One of the reporters called out.

The question was answered as the car pulled forward but stopped several feet short of the entranceway. The door opened and a tall, tanned, broad-shouldered twenty-five year old Damian Wayne squeezed himself out of the sleek car and looked over the crowd. "Hello everyone. I recognize that to all of you, the passing of Barbara Gordon Grayson is a newsworthy event that will undoubtedly sell many copies or increase your ratings. But please understand that to us, this is the loss of someone we all loved very much. She was my sister, a beloved mentor, someone who guided me through some of my darkest times, and she was the entire world to the people I hold most dear. So I ask you, all of you, to please respect my family's privacy in this time of tremendous loss. I promise you, I will remember those of you that do, and I will most certainly remember those of you that do not." Damian sent an intense glare over the crowd, one that intensified even more so as he continued. "After an appropriate period of mourning, I suppose you can return to hounding my father and I as you always have. I expect you to provide my brother Richard with a good deal more space to recover." Damian's intensity turned into a look of terrifying malice at this point. "My niece and my nephew are to be off limits in every way. You will not approach them, you will not photograph them unless you clear it through an adult member of this family or one of our appointed representatives, and you will make no attempt to interview them. Consider yourselves warned." With that Damian got back into his sports car and pulled it through the gate.

XXXXX

John looked away from the long line of visitors there to offer their condolences and down at his right hand, now gently clasping that of his eight year old sister Sarah's left hand. He hadn't remembered his little sister sliding her hand into his, but he was happy that she had. He had been deriving as much strength from her as she had been from him. A swath of Sarah's light brown hair, which had been resting on her shoulder, slid off as she turned her head to look up at her brother, their mother's green eyes boring into the blue eyes that he had inherited from their father. She said nothing, but the message was clear that she did not want to be there. All but a handful of the hundreds of people paying their respects to their mother were strangers to Sarah and John. Being a Wayne meant that there were countless 'friends' of the family, most of whom reveled in the family's misfortunes and indiscretions. The number of real friends were miniscule. John twisted his head to take in the line of social climbers pretending to be distraught at the loss of the cop's daughter who managed to land Bruce Wayne's original stray, but his eyes locked onto one of those few that truly meant something to he and his family. Looking back at him, through glasses with thinner lenses than John had remembered, was twelve year old Laura Kent.

Laura's father and Grandpa Bruce had been friends since shortly before Bruce had taken in John's father. Or, at least to hear John's Dad tell it, they had been acquaintances; the friendship took several years to develop. Whatever the case, Laura and her parents were on an extremely short list of people that security had been informed could come and go throughout the manor as they pleased whenever there was a social event. John actually saw the Kents quite frequently, which was odd given that they lived all the way in Metropolis. The boy smiled as he realized that shouldn't seem that unusual. Mr. And Mrs. Kent were both Pulitzer Prize winning journalists who had been chasing stories all over the world since they were in their twenties; they probably had enough frequent flyer miles to go to the sun and back.

John smiled sheepishly at Laura. Yeah, he had a bit of a crush on her, which his gut kept telling him seemed mutual, but it was just too weird a situation. At least that's the excuse he was sticking to, the fact of the matter was that he was just bad at dealing with girls and was sure that he'd botch any attempt at expressing his romantic feelings to the girl, resulting in her thinking much less of him and probably avoiding him. If he did that, his baby sister would never forgive him. Sarah idolized Laura Kent, having never seen her as a bookish girl with asthma, allergies, and myopia, but as the confident, funny older girl from Metropolis who was calm and collected when meeting world leaders and top fashion designers. Being a member of the Wayne family, John and Sarah had met the same dignitaries and celebrities, as well as many that Laura had never met, but they just didn't seem to possess the ease that Laura felt around the big names.

Laura returned his nervous grin with a sad one of her own. She had loved John and Sarah's mother, having talked with 'Babs' for hours every time the Kents were over. The weird thing was that the conversations that they seemed to enjoy the most were off limits to John and Sarah. As soon as John got anywhere near them they'd hush suddenly and change the subject. It used to irritate John to no end, but that seemed so insignificant now. Laura's presence brightened Sarah's mood, as John looked down to see his sister smiling at her hero. John wasn't the only one to be born with the combined brilliance of their parents, and to find someone who was just as smart as they were, as well as being just as fun, or in John's case, more fun, was a real treasure. And the fact that she was a stunner didn't hurt, especially for John. After a seemingly endless line of people John neither knew or cared to know, Lois Kent finally reached his father and gave him a hug before both of them broke down. "I'm so sorry Dick, I can't believe she's gone."

"Neither can I Lois." Dick replied as he regained his composure. "Thanks for being here."

"My God Dick, of course we'd be here." Lois responded.

"You know that." Clark Kent followed up as he placed his hand on Dick's shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze.

Dick looked up at Clark and smiled. "Be sure to thank…the others for me. The displays are…downstairs."

Clark nodded. "Of course. The entire team is devastated. Even those who never got to know her personally acknowledge that she was our greatest asset."

Dick nodded and turned to glance at his son, who was peering up at them with a quizzical look on his face. Clark noted the boy and smiled, quickly changing the subject. "Goodness John, look at how big you're getting. You'll be as big as your Uncle Damian before you know it."

"Thank you Mr. Kent." John replied, offering a weak smile to the two reporters before looking up to his father. "Hey Dad, I think Sarah could use a break for a few minutes." John looked down at his sister and noted her appreciative smile before turning to Laura. "Maybe she could take Laura to Bruce's study so they could sit, get a drink, and quietly catch up."

Dick nodded. "Maybe you should go with them."

John was sorely tempted to take his father up on the suggestion, but he shook his head. "No, I need to be here."

Damian, who was standing next to Bruce on the other side Jim, who was positioned on the other side of Sarah, leaned forward, turned to Dick and nodded solemnly. "Your son is aware of his duty and is willing to sacrifice to see it done. He is becoming a fine young man."

Dick met his adoptive brother's gaze and replied curtly. "Thanks Damian."

Clark placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder and nodded to her. Laura approached John, gave him a hug, wept a little and then gently kissed him on the cheek as she pulled away. "I'm so sorry. Your mom was the greatest."

John turned away, fighting the urge to cry. "Thanks."

The Kents continued on, allowing the throngs of mostly unknown 'friends' to gain access and pay their respects to Gotham's royal family.

XXXXX

"Oh cut the shit Drake, you didn't bother trying to reach her, and don't tell me that you did!" John heard the clearly agitated voice of his aunt's namesake, Helena Bertinelli, up ahead around the corner. "With you being, well, you, as well as now being Waller's golden boy, plus the resources Bruce and your brothers have at their disposal, getting word to her would have been an easy task!" John paused and remained silent, intent on listening in on the conversation. There were family secrets that he and his sister were not privy to, and from prior experience, specifically numerous interrupted conversations with abruptly changed subjects, he knew that Helena Bertinelli was aware of at least some of them. And this must have been a pretty juicy secret, as Helena was clearly aiming her venom at John's uncle Tim, a man whom John had never seen Helena show anything but affection and respect for. Definitely a juicy secret, and a subject that Helena must feel strongly about to go head to head with Tim over. The man was the only person John had ever seen that could effectively stalemate Bruce on any given debate, which was saying a lot given the IQ's brought to bear for their family discussions. So whatever it was, it was something personal to Helena, and likely one of the few matters that John was already aware of.

"Now Helena, come on…" Sixteen year old Helena Wayne's voice interjected, but was quickly interrupted by that of her adoptive brother.

"You're right Helena," Tim snapped back, ignoring his sister's attempt to make peace, "I could track her down and personally deliver the news to her, as could anyone else in this house, but we're not going to do that. And had you been here when she made her grand declaration, one involving us being dead to her, you might see things our way."

"Look Tim, I'm not condoning her departure, or her severing ties with her family, except maybe to point out that the sanctimonious bullshit one has to endure when dealing with the lot of you can be pretty unbearable." The older Helena retorted. "But she worshipped Barb! Barbara took a killing machine and made her a person! She was the closest thing to a mother that woman ever had, so while Cass may no longer give a shit about the rest of you, she'd be here bawling over the casket if she had any inkling Barb was in it!"

"I sent messages to her, I don't know whether she bothered to read them or not, but I have no doubt she was aware of me trying to contact her, and I'm certain Bruce did the same." Tim replied coldly. "I don't doubt that she loved Barbara, but apparently not enough to put aside our differences."

"Tim!" This time it was the younger Helena that objected. "Don't vilify her like that! You more than anyone know how impossible Damian can be to be around!"

"No shit!" The older Helena jumped in. "Say what you will about how far he's come along, but ultimately, he's definitely wielding his grandfather's misogyny gene! Hell, what's it going to take for Helena to get the red suit?"

While the details were unknown to him, John was aware that his Aunt Cassandra had been estranged from the family for the last four years, but this 'red suit' for his Aunt Helena issue was a complete mystery to him. It was then that he noticed something to his rear, and turned his head to see Damian leaning against the wall behind him, a broad smile on his face as he listened in on the conversation, which had steered toward him being the subject matter. Damian nodded his head forward for John to continue listening in.

"That's entirely Damian's decision." Tim replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "He wields the mantle now."

"Oh come on, Drake, don't go all non-committal! Are you going to tell me that she doesn't have the chops?" The older woman snarled.

"Yes, she's amazing! I was close to giving her the green light myself!" Tim snapped loudly, but his voice trailed off as he continued. "But as I said, it's Damian's call now."

"What call is that?" Damian's voice cut through the air smoothly as he cupped his arm around John's left shoulder and guided both of them around the corner. John noticed the normally cold look exchanged between Tim and Damian was now ice cold coming from Tim, and annoyingly jovial coming from Damian. Something was being communicated between the two on a non-verbal level, and much to John's chagrin, the two Helenas seemed able to decipher it while John remained in the dark, yet again.

"Our sister is eager to attend the next Hollywood shindig at your penthouse." Tim replied completely convincingly, glancing down and smiling at John. "Apparently she's got a new red dress she'd like to wear, but you keep putting your foot down."

Damian displayed a playful grin as he replied. "Now Timothy, I'm well aware of MY sister's desires, but I have to be very careful that there isn't someone else who'll be wearing the same outfit. You, perhaps more than anyone else, know how these festivities can be, there can only be one person wearing a particular outfit at a time." With that the large man gave his nephew's shoulder a friendly squeeze, something that sent a clear message to everyone but said nephew, who could only look up at his uncle and display a look of utter confusion. Damian just showed John the same smile he was giving everyone else, until something caught his eye from the direction that they had come from. John and Damian both turned back down the hall to see Selina and Grandpa Jim talking as they made their way toward them. John noticed as his uncle positioned himself so that he was facing the two newcomers much the way he had been facing Tim and the Helenas, and seemed to puff out his already massive chest and almost pose for Jim and Selina. The two looked forward and suddenly noticed Damian standing with his hand on John's shoulder, and the pair froze, a look of utter shock on their faces. Damian held his pose for a moment before chuckling and addressing them. "These three weren't around to fully appreciate the joke the way you two obviously do."

John pulled away from his uncle and stared up at him. "Alright, I've had enough. What the hell does all this mean?"

Damian looked back at his nephew, a serious look coming over his face. "I cannot tell you. But you have the blood of detectives running through your veins, so consider all you've seen and heard, and figure it out!"

"Damian!" Tim growled in a tone that sent a shiver down John's spine.

Damian looked up at his adoptive brother, the one that he had never come to accept as a brother. "You may have lacked the stature to pull it off, being only five foot eight, but I must admit, you've got the voice down solidly, Drake."

Tim maintained his glare at Bruce Wayne's biological son. "Five foot nine."

Damian chuckled. "Oh, have you started spiking your hair again?" Damian turned back to John. "Now might be a good time to get back to looking for your sister."

John nodded, and as he turned to continue on toward the study, he heard the whispers of Selina and his grandfather. "Jesus Jim, it was like I was standing on a rooftop looking at their fathers twenty years ago."

"Closer to thirty."

"Shut up Jim."

XXXXX

"Oh, she's not Bruce's biological daughter." Sarah said to Laura as the two of them sat on a large sofa in Bruce's study, Alfred seated in a chair across from them, taking a sip of tea. "She's Selina's biological daughter, and Bruce adopted her when they got married."

"Really?" A look of confusion came over Laura Kent's face. "I wouldn't have guessed that. Helena looks as much like Mr. Wayne as she does like Mrs. Wayne."

Sarah shrugged. "A lot of people say Daddy looks like Bruce, but he's adopted."

"Your dad looks like he could be related to Bruce, but not enough for a stranger coming up to the two of them to automatically assume that they're from the same genetic stew. But Helena looks exactly how one would picture the child of Bruce and Selina Wayne to look." Laura replied. "I mean, right down to Selina's almond shaped sockets filled by Bruce's intense blue eyes."

"I agree, she does look like a Wayne." Sarah conceded. "But her father was a police officer named Samuel Bradley. He was killed in the line of duty before she was born."

"Now Miss Sarah," Alfred interrupted, "your aunt's personal matters are not to be discussed without her knowledge."

"Oh Alfred, Helena doesn't mind." Sarah answered, but noting the not-quite-scolding look coming from Alfred, she nodded. "But you're right, this is something that Helena should decide whether to share or not."

"She'll share it with Laura," John muttered as he entered the study, "but we'll be left in the dark, as always."

Alfred considered admonishing the boy's accusatory comment, but decided otherwise. "How are you holding up John?"

"I'm fine." The boy smiled at what was his great grandfather in all but blood, before turning to his sister. "How are you doing Sis?" Sarah stood up from the couch and ran to her brother, wrapping him up in a big hug, one that muffled the sobs coming out of her into his chest. "I know, Sarah, I know." A tear rolled down John's cheek. "I'm so sorry I didn't see him. I'm sorry…"

"Stop it John." Sarah pulled back and pleaded with her brother. "There wasn't anything you could have done to stop that car. Mommy loved you, I love you, everybody loves you but you. Stop hating yourself!" Sarah's sobbing was almost hysterical as she begged her brother, gently hammer-punching his chest. "You didn't fail her!"

"Miss Sarah," Alfred gently addressed the crying child as he gingerly stood from his chair, "why don't we head to the kitchen and prepare some hot cocoa for the four of us?"

Sarah continued staring up into her brother's eyes. "Stop blaming yourself John!" She whispered insistently as she continued gazing into his eyes, a gaze she maintained until she felt Alfred's hand come to a rest on her shoulder and allowed it to guide her away and toward the door.

Alfred twisted his head back toward the seated girl as he made his way toward the exit. "Miss Laura, please entertain Master John in our absence." The old man knew full well that there was nothing the young woman would rather be doing right now.

"Of course Alfred." Laura replied as she stood up from the couch and approached the mourning twelve year old boy, gently taking his hand into hers and leading him back to the couch, guiding him down to sit next to her. She looked into his face for several moments as he just stared down at the floor before finally breaking the silence. "Your sister is right, there's no way you could have done anything differently. You're not to blame in any way, and you have to stop beating yourself up. If for no other reason, than to put an end to the stress it's causing Sarah and the rest of us."

John looked into her eyes, and suddenly realized that she was right, his self-berating was taking a toll on his sister, and that was completely unacceptable. The boy nodded. "Alright, I'll cut it out. Sorry."

"No more apologies from you today, got it?" Laura admonished with a half joking, half serious tone.

"Yes Ma'am, no more worrying Sarah and the rest of you." The boy replied with a weak smile.

"I'm not joking, there are a lot of people beyond your immediate family worried about you right now." Laura replied seriously. "People you've never even met would bend over backward to do anything for you and Sarah."

"Yeah, I give two shits about all the gossip rag readers wishing to console the young Wayne heirs who just lost their mother." John grumbled back.

"I'm not talking about them." Laura replied sharply. "I'm talking about people very important to your family, whether you know it or not."

"Enough!" John stood up. "I've had it with all this cloak and dagger stuff! If the 'rest of you' are really that concerned with reducing the stress caused to my sister and I, you'd let us in on these secrets regarding us and our family!"

Laura looked up into the boy's eyes and was sorely tempted to grant his request, but after a moment's worth of internal debate, she shook her head and turned away from him. "Believe me Johnny, there's nothing I want to do more than to tell you everything. But it's not my place."

"Of course it's not." John grumbled as he stared down at her, but softened as he looked into her apologetic eyes and sat back down next to her. "Well, at least I've confirmed that there is, in fact, a conspiracy."

Laura smiled and nodded as she looked down at the floor. "Whoops." There was a pause of several seconds before she looked back up at him. "I'm really sorry about your mom. If there's anything I can do, anything at all that you need, just let me know."

"Thanks." John whispered as he looked down, but raised his head back toward her and met her gaze. "But I'll be fine."

"I hear they caught the guy." Laura muttered in an attempt to stave off the silence.

"Yeah." John answered. "I guess he got out of town as soon as he heard it was the great Commissioner Gordon's daughter that he'd killed. They found him holed up in some tenement tower in Bludhaven. An anonymous tip led to finding him, Amy,…oh, sorry, Commissioner Amy Rohrbach, she was Dad's partner for the five minutes he was a Bludhaven cop way back when, and has remained close with him, anyway, Amy personally led the raid that nabbed him."

"I can't believe he just sped off." Laura muttered, looking toward the ground once again and visualizing Barbara Grayson's final moments of life, laid out on the street with her son kneeling next to her. "And she didn't say anything?" Several silent seconds passed before she looked back up to see an extremely pained look over John's face. "John, what is it?"

"She said something." The statement was barely audible, as another tear streamed down the boy's cheek. John twisted his head and stared deeply into Laura's eyes. "I've been keeping this to myself, because, well, Mom was probably the smartest person I've ever known, and I don't want to tarnish that memory for others by letting them know her final words were…crazy talk. You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Of course John." Laura took his hand into hers.

John took a deep breath, clenched his eyes shut, and then finally relayed, for the first time his mother's final moments. "I was kneeling there, and she was desperate to say something to me. I told her to save her strength, not to talk, but she grabbed my shirt, pulled me closer…" the boy let out a sob, but continued, "and told me she had been wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

John peered pleadingly into her eyes. "I have your word you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course."

John nodded, relaxed a little, turned his gaze back to the floor, and then continued. "She said, 'John, I was wrong. I could never bear the thought of what happened to me happening to you, or perhaps something worse. I wanted you to be safe, to live a normal life, but I was wrong. It's clear now, so very clear now that it's time for me to move on. You need to be like your father, your uncles, like Bruce. You need to embrace this legacy that I've sheltered you from. You were born for this, to be a protector, a leader, a hero'…" John choked at the memory. "She said, 'Tell them, tell them that…that I…', she trailed off, and that was it. She died a few seconds later." John finished with a whisper. It was several seconds before he noticed the complete lack of movement or sound from the girl sitting next to him, and turned to see if she had any reaction to what he had said. He was caught off guard by the complete look of shock etched into Laura Kent's face. "What?"

"John," she whispered, a hint of a smile edging its way onto her stunned features, "that wasn't crazy talk."

"What the hell are you talking about?" John asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"John, you have to tell them!" Laura insisted.

"Who?"

"Your family." Laura replied, excitement growing within her. "They need to know this!"

"No way!" John snapped. "Let them know that my mother's final words were insane ramblings brought on by shock or some other damn thing? I'm not telling them, and neither are you! I told you, her memory won't be tarnished!"

Laura stood up. "John, you don't understand, you need to tell them! But only them. No one else. Just your dad, Bruce, Tim, Helena or Damian."

"Tell me what?" The two pre-teens turned to see Damian standing in the doorway.

Laura took a couple of steps toward the large man, and then turned back to John. "You need to tell him!"

"Shut up Laura!" John snapped. "You gave your word!"

Laura just stared at John pleadingly. "Miss Kent," Laura turned back to look at Damian, "I would guess that your parents are probably wondering where you are right now."

"I'm sure they know I'm fine." Laura replied.

"No doubt, but I would like to have a moment alone with my nephew." Damian replied, smiling at her and giving a look that seemed to indicate that she could trust that this was the right thing to do.

Laura nodded and turned back to John. "We might be leaving soon anyway, but I'll be at the funeral tomorrow. If we miss each other there, please call me. We need to talk."

John nodded, and watched as she gave him a sympathetic smile before walking out. Damian turned to watch her leave as well, and then slowly twisted his head back to look at his nephew. "She truly is a beautiful girl, and it's clear that she fancies you quite a bit."

"I hope she didn't hear you." John grumbled.

A perplexed look came over Damian's face. "Depending on what her puberty has entailed so far, she either was too far to hear me, or she'd be able to hear me from anywhere on the estate."

Now John bore the perplexed look. "What?"

"Nothing, just noting that you two make a handsome couple."

"She's a friend." John replied defensively.

"Yes, right now, but she need not remain just a friend." Damian smiled, the classic Wayne smile, but the sincere one that. "In fact, in certain circles, you're all but betrothed."

"What?" John gave his uncle a confused glare.

"Nothing, just joking around with you again." Damian replied. "Yes, not my typical M.O. But, for the record, I have impossibly high standards for any young lady that you may date, and Laura Kent is one of the few that has a chance of meeting those standards."

"Thanks Damian, but we're just friends." John replied with authority.

"Alright then, I'll let it drop." Damian replied absently as he started walking about the room seemingly aimlessly. "I don't want you to think I was eavesdropping, but I couldn't help but hear your concern about tarnishing her memory."

"Just like you and I couldn't help but overhear the discussion between Tim and the Helenas?" John replied sarcastically.

"No, I promise that I have never spied on you, Nephew." Damian answered back. "But your voice was raised. Anyway, I assume that the 'her' you were referring to was your mother?"

"Don't worry about it." John snapped back.

Damian nodded as he glanced over the array of books in front of him. "Memories of our parents are powerful, often times inspiring things. Things that can shape us, drive us to be much more than we would have been without them. Even the most painful traumas can be focal points of tremendous good." The uncle's apparent meandering through the study had led him next to the antique grandfather clock behind the large desk. "Like with the memories my father has of his parents, the great Thomas and Martha Wayne. Specifically, a memory from a night about forty-seven years ago, when this clock, as most of the clocks on the eastern seaboard, was set to ten forty-seven." Damian set the hands of the clock to the mentioned time and turned to give John a look the boy couldn't quite read, placing his finger on center of the clock hands, as if to push on them, but refraining from doing so. "On that night, when this clock displayed ten forty-seven, something terrible happened." John was well versed in Wayne family history, and while the exact time of his great grandparents' death was news to him, he knew what terrible event his uncle was referring to. "A horrific tragedy occurred that night when this clock was showing this time," Damian's gaze grew more intense, and he began tapping the point connecting the two clock hands, "but that tragedy has led to countless acts of greatness, most often beginning with the positioning of these hands, on this clock, to ten forty-seven." A look of utter confusion was etched on John's face, and after a few moments of silence, Damian checked his watch and reset the grandfather clock to the current time. "So regardless of whether you fully understand them right now, respect and keep these memories. They can motivate you to do incredible things."

John just shook his head, he was done trying to figure out the riddles of his family for now. "Fine, whatever." The boy shrugged.

"You have some thinking to do John." Damian said to him in an almost scolding manner. "Be sure to include these memories of your mother into your equations." The large man glanced down at the desk and then back to his nephew. "Now if you'll please excuse me, I have some work here I need to attend to." John was a little put off by his uncle's odd, abrupt and seemingly callous behavior, but he merely nodded and left the room. Damian watched the boy leave, waited a few moments, and then walked to the double doors of the study and closed them before returning to the clock and turning the hands back to the time of his grandparents' murder. Damian pressed on the center of the clock, where the hands overlapped, and the right side of the clocked detached from the wall. Damian pulled it out, revealing a heavy metal door behind it and a veritable computer terminal built into the back of the antique clock. Damian positioned his head so that several sensors behind the clock could conduct a retinal scan, one when completed, prompted the metal door to open. "Computer, reset admittance criteria to genetic sampling. Entrance to be based on match to pre-approved Y-Haplotype samples. Approved Y-Haplotypes comparison samples are designated Wayne, Pennyworth, Grayson…" Damian groaned inaudibly, "Drake." The computer processed the changes, and a moment later the equipment for the retina scan retracted into the console built behind the clock and another set of scanning equipment rotated out from it, one possessing a container of cheek swabs.

XXXXX

The house was silent. The stereotype with these large, old mansions was that they creaked all night long, but he had slept in Wayne Manor hundreds, of times over the course of his life, and the only sounds he had ever heard at night came from footsteps, whispers and other sounds people made outside his room, or from bats and birds outside the windows. Once the guests has dispersed, Damian had suggested that the Graysons stay here tonight, as suggestion that Bruce not only seconded, but insisted upon. It had been a long day, they were all exhausted, and tomorrow morning's funeral would be held here, with Barbara being interned in the Wayne family cemetery. It was not a difficult sell to John's father, who was holding a sleeping Sarah in his arms at the time. Damian then pulled Dick aside, and seemed to verify that Sarah was in fact asleep before suggesting something else to his adoptive brother. Like with most other discussions between the Wayne brothers, this was held well outside listening range for John, and all he could do was watch as his father initially shook his head at whatever Damian had suggested to him, but over the course of a minute's discussion he seemed to finally acquiesce, and then thank Damian, giving him a hug while effortlessly rotating the sleeping eight year old to his hip.

But whatever Damian may have been discussing with Dick was quickly pushed to the backburner of John's mind as he decided to focus on Damian's fascination with his ancestors' clock, as well as the various other cryptic things his uncle and others had said to him throughout the day, and throughout his life as well. John was thankful for such riddles, as they kept him from focusing on his mother's death, something he had wished for his sister as he heard her crying herself to sleep hours before. It was now nearly two in the morning, and John was about to write off any chance of obtaining sleep that night. So he once again went over the weird things that were said to him, or in his presence. He had the blood of detectives running through his veins. What the hell did that mean? Yeah, his grandfather was Jim Gordon, but that's only ONE detective. Who were these other detectives? And why did the way Damian and John were posing together stop Jim and Selina in their tracks? Selina's statement kind of clarified the issue, she and Jim must have been reminded of how Bruce and Dick looked together when the were similar in age to Damian and John. But what did she mean by the rooftop thing? And what the hell was with Laura's insistence that his mother's final words not only were sane, but that it was essential that he share them with his family, and only his fam… John sat upright. "HOLY SHIT!"

XXXXX

What had made the Batman the most effective crime fighter of all time, well one of the traits that led to this, was being proactive. Damian reminded himself of this for the thousandth time as he blocked out the sounds of people training in the cave's exercise area and continued pouring over the files of psychiatric patients who had fallen within the parameters he had set to see if there might be any copycats of Roy Darvelle, better known as Darwin's Scalpel. Darvelle had managed to get his hands on the results of various elementary school aptitude tests, and then took it upon himself to either kill or sterilize low scoring children he felt would be detrimental to the evolutionary advancement of our species. As a child, Damian had considered the first ten minutes of the movie 'Idiocracy' to be one of the highlights of the cinematic arts, but that anyone would take such a scenario seriously, and then castrate or kill children for this or any reason drove him into a near-psychotic frenzy. He had finally discerned Darvelle's identity, tracked him down, and beat him into a coma, one that took him three months to wake up from. Damian had managed to refrain from killing him, but he would make sure that any maniac that thought of following in Darvelle's footsteps would have their aspirations nipped in the bud.

"Hey D-Bag," Tim's voice came out between gasps of air as he rounded the corner that separated the gymnasium from the control section of the cave, carefully walking around a multitude of flower stands delivered to honor Oracle from the cape and cowl community, "we were wondering why you decided to change the security settings for the cave again so soon. According to Bruce, retinal was in place for barely a week before you decided to switch it today; a switch you failed to mention to anyone."

"I am the Batman now, Drake, I'll attend to the cave's security as I see fit." Damian smiled as he continued peering at the various screens in front of him. "Well, perhaps I'm not the Batman tonight, but aside from the few hours Richard is working off some aggression, I am the Batman."

"Oh, alright then." Tim replied. "And for the record, it was Bruce who brought it up. I'll be sure to tell him that Batman says to piss off and not question his pointy-eared decision making again."

Damian abruptly stood up and spun around to face his immediate predecessor in the roles of both Robin and Batman. "The message to my father will be different than my message to you. Never confuse the disrespect I bear you as disrespect for anyone else."

Tim smiled. "Got it." The thirty-two year old man started to turn, but stopped and re-focused on his belligerent adoptive brother. "Damian, not that I care, but…"

"Why do I dislike you?" Damian finished the question.

"Actually, why do you still dislike me?" Tim clarified. "I get why you initially hated me; you were a spoiled little shit raised by psychopaths and murderers, and I had a few things that you felt entitled to. It didn't require Bruce's training to figure that one out. But you seem to have come around in your dealing with others. Still arrogant, but you seem to limit your evil little twerp tendencies to your dealings with me."

Damian smirked as he took a small step toward Tim. "This little twerp is now seven inches taller than you."

Tim sent a glare. "Six."

"Whatever." Damian chuckled. "My continued dislike for you…well, I'm not really sure. Honestly, it's probably just some childish enjoyment of disliking you. And to be fair, I have little doubt that you enjoy hating me too." The larger man turned back to the computer, lost his humor and quietly exhaled. "Actually Drake, truth be told, until you threw your lot in with Waller's crew, I had nothing but respect for you. True, I had never, nor could I ever, embrace you as a brother the way that I had for Dick, but were you not so adamant about inserting 'Wayne' after your name, I'd have considered you one of my closest friends and allies. Hell, I was even at the point of looking past your calling yourself Drake-Wayne and doing a mea culpa for all the times I tried to kill you, and the much more numerous lesser offenses. And also to apologize for basically usurping the cowl from you a couple of years ago, and offering to make any concessions to help ease the sting that had been caused by that." Damian turned back around and glared at the older man. "But your betrayal of a decision to work for Amanda Waller's king-making Gestapo soured me to that idea."

Tim's face twisted into a scowl. "Checkmate cannot be compared to the Gestapo on any level, and the only king-making is putting back rightful rulers who have been overthrown by the true king-makers; king-makers who more often than not are linked to your grandfather in some way, if not directly acting on his behalf! And I may not be his seed, but never question my devotion to Bruce."

"Devotion is fine, and I have never questioned yours to my father," Damian snarled back, "but I would think that a man who is perhaps the third greatest geneticist on the planet would appreciate the impact a seed carries. A man who facilitated the natural birth of a Human/Kryptonian hybrid should accept the truth in the old adage about apples falling from trees."

Tim nodded. "I'm proud to be the son of Jack and Janet Drake, two people that were flawed like anyone else, but were honest, kind, and good people that left the world better for them having been in it. If I've taken root in the shadows of the trees they represent, then I couldn't be happier. Just as you have every right to be proud of your genetic ties to Bruce, Thomas and Martha." Tim adopted a sly grin as he continued. "But don't forget the other tree that had a hand in making you, both in terms of genetics and guidance in your most formative years."

"Genetics are the only ties that remain between me and the line of Al Ghul!" Damian snarled, but quickly regained his composure. "And quite frankly, on a genetic level, it is something to be proud of. I am descended from geniuses on both sides of my family, world class athletes on both sides of my family," a broad grin came over Damian's face, "hell, they're even nine pluses in the looks department. Not that it really matters to me, but,…well, OK, I admit it. It matters to me and I love that I'm handsome as hell. Genetically I have no regrets about my maternal heritage; Ras and Talia were born gifted, they were not born evil. The aspect I do regret, the lessons regarding the insignificance of human life, the ones that led me down the path to being a sociopathic killing machine; those were purged. It took years, and tested Richard to his limits, but he made the sacrifices," Damian's face started twisting, a resistance to the surge of emotions that the memories he was reliving were bringing to the forefront "spent the countless hours, endured more cruelty than anyone should have to endure. Initially I believed it was an attempt to repay the House of Wayne for taking him in when his parents were murdered, but in time I finally came to accept that he had grown to love me. Genuine, limitless, fraternal love; something that seemed unfathomable to a spoiled little shit raised by psychopaths and murderers. He saved my soul, he made me capable of overcoming my early programming. Richard Grayson purged me of the negative that the House of Al Ghul had instilled in me."

Damian paused, but maintained his intense view of Tim, who in return smiled, an almost kind smile that seemed out of place in an argument. "Not bad for a low-born carnie, huh?"

Bruce Wayne's only biological son glared at Tim, but slowly his gaze softened. "Do not twist my words Drake, deeds outweigh all else, but genetics do play a role that can neither be ignored or downplayed." The slightest of noises got the attention of both men, a whisper of a whisper coming from the direction of the stone stairway leading to the main entrance to the Manor above. Tim lunged forward to activate the intruder alarm, but Damian caught his wrist and held it inches from the console. Tim looked up at Damian, a look of shock etched onto his face. Damian looked back and gently shook his head. "That won't be necessary."

Tim shifted his shocked eyes from Damian to the base of the staircase, which twisted around, shielding whatever had made the noise. The older, smaller man then relaxed, but returned his gaze to Damian, one that was now a heated glare accompanied by a low growl pieced together to form words. "That better not be who I think it is." Tim wrenched his arm free and turned toward the stairs. "Step out here and let us see you!" A few moments passed before John sheepishly stepped out away from the stairway. "Damn it, Damian!" Tim bellowed.

The two men and the boy noticed the abrupt end to the sounds of exercising on the other side of the rocky wall and listened to steps coming their way, steps that were meant to be heard. "This is the first time the two of you have seen each other in over a year, and given why we're all here I was hoping that you two could act…" Bruce turned the corner and caught sight of John. "Damn it, Damian!"

Bruce's outburst caused Helena to come rounding the corner after her father, who also caught sight of her stunned and bewildered nephew, which caused her to give her adoptive brother a judgmental glare. "Really Damian?"

Damian just displayed his most disarming smile. "I didn't tell him to come down here." Tim pushed past him and started clacking away at the computer.

"Cut the shit, Damian!" Bruce growled, one of the few noises that could actually cause fear in his son. "You plugged his DNA into the computer!"

"No, he didn't." Tim announced. "Security was set to test for Y-Haplotype." The annoyed thirty-two year old turned to his adopted younger brother and continued in a sarcastic manner. "It must have been merely a coincidence. Damian's innocent." Tim folded his arms and leaned against the terminal as John began wandering around the control area, taking note of the various sights. "I suppose I should feel honored that you chose to include my Drake seed on the guest list."

John studied the various floral arrangements. "Who's Oracle?" The boy whispered.

"Or the Bradley haplotype." Helena, not hearing her nephew's question, commented, a comment that caused Damian to knowingly arch and eyebrow and shift his gaze from Tim to his father and back again. Helena noted the odd behavior between her adoptive brothers and adoptive father. "What?"

Tim nodded and huffed gently. "Two birds with one stone, huh D?"

"What?"

"How dare you Damian?" Bruce emitted as a mix between a snarl and a whisper. "It was not your place!"

"No Father, you're absolutely right!" Damian bit back. "It was yours! Years ago!"

"What?" Helena was still confused, but noting the silent, heated stares being exchanged between her older family members, she chose to act and march toward the terminal, pushing Tim aside and looking at the security settings laid out on the screen. "I…I don't…" She looked up and gasped as she finally realized what this meant. "Oh my God."

John had turned away from the various floral arrangements and stood silently by as this discussion had unfolded, overwhelmed by what had been revealed to him, but seeing his Aunt on the verge of tears prompted him to action, and a moment later he was at her side. "Helena, what is it?"

Helena looked over to her twelve year old nephew, her eyes meeting his. She stared at him for a few moments, failing to notice the abrupt end of arguing going on around them, and then hugged her nephew. They embraced for nearly a minute, during which she allowed herself two sobs before collecting herself, lacing the fingers of her right hand with those of her nephew's left, and turning toward what she now knew to be her adoptive brother Tim, and biological father and brother. "Why? Why was this kept from me? What right did any of you have keeping this from me? You all clearly knew! WHY?"

"I wasn't…" Tim stammered in a barely audible voice, "certain."

"Bullshit!" Helena growled. "You can piece together a person's DNA helix just by looking at them." She turned away from Tim and glared at her father. "But Damian was right, it wasn't his or Tim's place to tell me, it was yours…DAD!" She squeezed John's hand, a gesture he returned; they would share the solidarity of both being victims of their family's duplicity. "What, you didn't know either?" She screamed.

"I knew." Bruce replied in a calm, even voice, apparently uncowed to any degree. "I knew the moment I laid eyes on you for the first time and saw my mother's features etched into your face. But your mother knew that being the daughter of Bruce Wayne would be wrought with peril. Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle weren't dating, but several of my enemies knew that Selina was…close with Batman from time to time. Plus, several of my enemies knew my identity. Selina chose to put the list the name of a dead police officer, one whose enemies were dead as well, as your father on your birth certificate. She did this to protect you. Unfortunately it soon became clear that Catwoman's enemies would be very interested in you as well, which is why you were placed with the Fergusons."

"And after the accident, when I came back to the two of you?" Helena pressed. "Suddenly it was alright for Selina to lay claim to me, but I still needed to be lied to about my father?"

"The enemies of Catwoman were a drop in the bucket when compared to those of…"

"Batman, yeah I know!" Helena interrupted her father. "I get it, keep it secret from the outside world, and hell, even from me when I was a young child and didn't fully grip the scale of what was going on. But I'm sixteen now! I could have handled this years ago! I've been researching and mourning a man it turns out I have nothing to do with!"

"Samuel Bradley may not have been your father, but he gave his life to protect you and your mother." Bruce replied.

"Fine, then I'll honor him, I'll thank him, but I'm a fool for calling him Dad every time I visit his grave or look at his picture!" Helena snapped at her father as sobs found their way between her words. "Why couldn't you share this with me?"

"Because Damian was wrong." Bruce replied quietly as he looked down. "It wasn't my place."

"What?" Helena asked, and slowly began to realize what her father was saying. "Mom told you I wasn't yours?"

Bruce looked back up and met his daughter's gaze. "We will continue this discussion tomorrow, with your mother present."

"No, I need to know…" Helena was interrupted by the roar of the Batmobile's engine as it thundered through the main cavern leading to them and came to a halt once it had emerged.

The front of the vehicle slid open and Batman sprung out from the cockpit, marching quickly around the car toward the group of people standing in front of the computer terminal. At that exact moment, from behind them, Alfred cleared the stairwell and shuddered at the sight of John. "My word."

Batman stopped, shook his head and reached up, pulling off his cowl. A sweaty, mussed-haired Dick Grayson looked at his son and smiled. "Looks like we're not going to be getting any sleep tonight, huh?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dick Grayson noiselessly entered his youngest brother's room, at least his brother's room when he chose to stay at the Manor, and stood over the bed, looking down at the serenity and peace that only came to Damian as he slept. Though long since becoming a grown man, Dick still saw the face of his ten-year-old Robin whenever he looked upon Damian. He smiled lightly as he raised his right foot, rested it gently upon the side of the oversized mattress, and thrust forward with all he had. Damian's eyes snapped open wide as his mattress glided off of the box spring, slammed into and then on top of his toppling bedside table, and skidding across the floor, only stopping when it hit the wall. "I bet you're pretty pleased with this magnum opus of yours, eh Maestro?" Dick grumbled as he rounded the large bed frame, malevolent steps cutting the distance between he and his former partner.

A smile began to stretch across Damian's face. "Morning Dick. Something on your mind?"

"I just spent the last four hours explaining our lives to my son." Dick replied as he stopped at the foot of the mattress laid out on the floor. "Bruce, Selina and Helena have been at war for that entire time as well." Dick grabbed the end of the mattress pressed up against the wall and yanked it up, forcing the groggy but amused Damian to roll off of the other end and onto the floor. "Which would be annoying, but acceptable any other day; typical Damian being Damian." Dick reached down, grabbed Damian under his armpits and hoisted the man upright and slammed him against his closed closet door. "But I'm burying my wife in a few hours, so the shit you pulled last night is completely unacceptable on any level!"

Damian looked down at his brother, his humor gone, replaced by a look of genuine regret. "I do apologize for the timing of this, Richard." The younger man bowed his head for just a moment before raising his gaze back into his brother's eyes. "I did not envision it happening like this. But while I heard only the smallest portion of your son's discussion with Miss Kent, what I heard was enough to make me confident that your wife had changed her mind prior to her death. I did not flat out tell him, but I did not see any harm in sprinkling a few more breadcrumbs."

"Breadcrumbs?" Dick snarled. "You left entire loaves end to end from his room to the Batcave!" Dick continued looking up at his younger brother, but his anger seemed to fade, and he eventually released his grip on the man, turning away and rubbing his head. "Damn it Damian, I know you want John to be your Robin, you've made that abundantly clear. But you don't get to simply dismiss the boy's parents! He's our child!"

"Yes, I know, and I respected that for years." Damian countered defensively. "But Barba…"

"You assumed!" Dick nearly yelled the interruption. "You assumed Babs changed her mind. And you know what? You assumed correctly. But that doesn't give you the green light!" The older brother pressed his finger into the larger man's chest. "You come to me to see if I can get some clarification from John, and then I'll decide what's best for him. You worry about Wayne Enterprises, your public persona, Batman, and Gotham; I'll take care of my son!" Dick turned and started for the door. "I've got children to attend to. Enjoy this discord that you've sown."

XXX

Bruce Wayne looped the tie, slipped it through the knot, and pulled it, creating once again the perfect knot over the perfect length of tie. But perfect or not, he untied it and did it over again. "At some point you're going to have to put on the rest of your clothes." Selina commented as she slid next to her husband in front of the large mirror.

"I'm aware of that." Bruce replied absently staring at the quickly forming perfect knot over his throat. "Barbara was the only one of my girls that didn't want to see me dead."

Selina turned toward her husband, grabbed and twisted him so that he faced her as well, brushed his hands away from his tie, undid the knot he was working on and began tying it herself. "Cass doesn't want to see you dead. She may be a little pissed at you for siring Damian, which goes waaaaay beyond understandable, but she'll always love you. And Helena is a bit shell-shocked right now. She feels angry and betrayed, but that's mostly directed toward me. Whatever anger she harbors toward you she'll get over quickly. She loves you, and always will. And knowing that she can now inherit a vital organ from you in addition to some of your billions will only add to that." Selina smiled up at her troubled husband as she finished the knot, her eyes red from crying caused by the loss of one of her closest friends and the fighting that had been going on with her daughter for the last few hours. "It's me that she'll likely never forgive for deceiving her."

Bruce turned back toward the mirror to examine his wife's work. It was a good knot, but not perfect. Certainly not what Alfred would find acceptable, but in its flaws there seemed to be a bit of character. The length was slightly off, the knot was the slightest bit sloppy, and to Bruce, whose world was tightly categorized and ordered, it was just what he wanted, so he left it without any further alteration. "Oh, she'll forgive you. It'll take a few weeks, and she'll pretend that she never got over it just to have a card or two to use in future confrontations with you, but she'll come to accept why you did what you did and actually see it for what it truly was; you trying to protect her."

Selina nodded and smiled as she continued to gaze up at her husband. "Yes, you're probably right. Our daughter will forgive me…but will my husband?"

"Forgive you for what?" Bruce replied automatically, his voice devoid of any emotion, something which made Selina realize that he truly was harboring some resentment.

"For not telling you that you were her biological father." Selina replied.

"You didn't need to." Bruce responded as he turned away to reach for his jacket, his demeanor contradicting his words. "You knew that I knew. There was nothing for you to tell."

"Yes, you knew," Selina nodded, convinced she was right about Bruce trying to hide that he was upset regarding the matter by the focus he was devoting to putting on his jacket, "but that knowledge didn't absolve me from not telling you. I lied to you, and whatever my motives for lying, whether justified or not at the time, amounted to nothing once we got married; hell long before we got married truth be told, and certainly before Helena returned to us."

Bruce finally turned to his wife and met her gaze with an intent glare. "Yes, you're right. I'm not really in the mood to have this out now, but yes, it's been a burr under my saddle for years that you failed to come clean with me. We'll finally have this out later, when it's more appropriate."

Selina was a little taken aback by the sudden anger in Bruce's cold, blue eyes. "Whoah, look, I understand if you're a little pissed, but come on! Believe it or not, I did have my reasons for doing what I did; valid reasons! And quite frankly, most husbands would be ecstatic to find out that the step-child they've been raising is actually theirs, and that the sexcapade with the other guy never happened. But I guess that's not the case for the Batman!"

A look of confusion came over Bruce. "It didn't happen?"

"No!" Now Selina bore the confused look. "You claim to have known she was yours all along, yet you think I slept with Sam?"

"Well, yeah." Bruce replied. "I assumed you slept with him. Things between us were…undefined, and I was out of the picture at that time."

Selina shook her head. "No dummy, we never slept together." She continued staring up at him. "Yeah, there was sexual tension, and yeah, we flirted, but it never came to anything. I was still in love with you; even if I was a little cheesed you were taking a boys' only road trip with Dick and Tim. Sam just happened to present a less dangerous and complicated name to the birth certificate than Bruce Wayne. I thought it'd fly under the radar, and aside from Slam finding out about it, it did. And when he asked about it, I just whipped up a plausible story to get him out of the room. It just happened to be a stroke of luck that her eyes matched his, well, at the time anyway."

Bruce looked away and muttered absently as he considered this. "Slam's eyes were gray, as are many infants prior to their eyes taking on their final colors." He then turned back to Selina. "But why not tell me?"

Now it was Selina's turn to twist her body away from his, and after a sigh she finally answered. "This is a very uncomfortable conversation, just as I knew it would be. And as I realized that you were already aware of Helena's true paternity, I figured there was no real urgency, so I always put it off for another day…for sixteen years." Selina turned back to Bruce and shrugged, offering a weak smile. "It wasn't some willful deception, it was just procrastination, which I realize to you may be an even greater sin, but for the rest of us humans it's just a common vice we all give in to from time to time. You have every right to be pissed, but in time you'd better forgive me." Selina arched an eyebrow and sent him a threatening glare. "Or else."

Bruce looked into his wife's eyes with a stone expression for several seconds before breaking down and smiling at her. "Apology, or whatever that was, accepted. And there's nothing to forgive, you kept our daughter safe." Bruce reached forward and took his wife's hand. "But I'm afraid our daughter isn't quite as soft a touch as I am. She has too much of her mother in her."

Selina raised up on her tiptoes and gave her husband a light kiss. "Yes, God help us all."

XXX

"I don't know about this," Tim muttered as he stood next to Damian, both in black suits standing next to the grave site that their sister in law would be lowered into later in the day, "I knew there would be some, but there seem to be way too many members of the community here."

"It's fine, the wake was semi-public, the funeral is completely private, we've gone to great lengths to ensure nobody who shouldn't be seeing anything would see anything." Damian replied as the two men continued looking straight ahead. "Besides, they're all in disguise."

"There are still a lot of them, and most of their disguises aren't that good." Tim whispered in reply.

"Clean the shit out of your ears, Drake. I told you, none of the non-community members that are present are in a position to notice anything," Damian whispered back, "and the only press here are the Kents."

"The shits not in my ears, it's between yours." Tim snapped back quietly. "Yindel's here and she has made it quite clear that she's not a fan of the community."

"If Ellen Yindel is still unable to connect the pieces after the wife my father lamentably chose to take, then I'm pretty sure we're safe from her here and now." Damian smirked. "Though there are uninvited guests, or haven't you noticed?"

"I'm not that out of practice." Tim replied as he glanced over to mausoleum that housed Damian's great, great, great grandparents.

"Do you think he's going to cause a problem?" Damian asked. Both men sent subtle glances toward Dick and Bruce, who were standing next to each other on the other side of Dick's children. Both Bruce and Dick gently, almost imperceptibly, shook their heads in a negative fashion. "Well, if they both agree, I guess it's safe to leave him be."

"Too bad." Tim muttered.

"Still?" Damian questioned.

"He stuck a boomerang in my abdomen." Tim grumbled, surprise mixed in with his quiet voice. "I get trying to kill me, but that was a little too personal."

"True," Damian replied, "but didn't you come at him with a crowbar prior to that? I'd say you both crossed some lines that day."

"Whose side are you on?" Tim hissed. Damian looked upward and cocked his head, pretending to be deep in thought. "Dickhead." Tim hissed again, though there was mirth in his voice.

"Repeat what I'm about to say to anyone, and I'll call you a liar." Damian whispered. "But it's good to have you here again Drake."

Tim went out of his way to make his face stonier than usual. "Likewise D-bag."

Damian then peered into the crowd. "And the other uninvited guest?"

"I'm actually impressed; I honestly didn't think you'd notice her." Tim replied.

"I'm the goddamned Batman." Damian whispered, the left corner of his mouth twisting upward slightly.

"Yeah, still haven't fully come to terms with that fact." Tim grumbled.

"I guess you shouldn't have gotten yourself injured." Damian replied just as the priest took his place and cleared his throat to begin, leaving Tim with only a dirty look to respond with.

XXX

Bruce marched across his family cemetery toward the mausoleum housing his great, great grandparents, Alan and Loretta Wayne, and stopped before the main door, presumably to pay his respects to the ancestors. "We're all heading inside, Cassandra will pay her respects first; she was much closer to Barbara than you were. Once she is done, you may visit the grave and do what you came to do."

"And what if what I came to do was to take you all out?" A voice hissed through the leaves of the trees growing along the side of the mausoleum.

Bruce shook his head. "Do you really wish to make pointless, confrontational remarks on a day like this?" Bruce waited for an answer for several seconds before continuing when one never came. "Aside from the obvious fact that there are more than a dozen Justice League alumni and current members here over and above the fact that you have been beaten by me and every one of your brothers on an individual basis, I'm pretty sure that you would not disrespect Barb in such a way. If nothing else, you and she were both victims of the same monster, and the damage that was done to her wasn't miracled away."

Jason Todd emerged from the foliage and stood before Bruce, his hair salt and pepper gray and a scar running over his left eye. "I may have been resurrected, but not all of the damage the Joker inflicted was miracled away, Bruce." The thirty-five year old man smirked. "And all of your children have been victims of that monster to varying extents. Yet you choose to allow him a continued existence."

"We've had this discussion too many times for me to waste what time I have left repeating it." Bruce replied as he turned back toward the manor, the majority of the other mourners in the distance ahead of him already headed that way.

"No, we've never really had this discussion, not for real anyway." Jason snapped back as he took a step further out from the side of the mausoleum. "You've explained why you could never kill the Joker, not even with him having killed me, and I would have accepted that were it not for one very clear fact." Jason smiled as Bruce stopped and twisted his head half way around to listen. "The Joker killed me, and he could kill Drake, and perhaps even Damian, and you'd probably let him keep breathing. But were he to ever kill Dick," Jason's grin widened, "yeah, we'd have one dead clown."

Bruce turned around fully to look at his estranged son again. "How dare you say that?" The enraged whisper came out almost as a rattle, but the rage seemed to be quickly replaced by hurt. "You can't possibly believe that. Your death was the lowest point of my life. Had it been Dick, I'd likely have been in the same place, but there's no way I could have gotten any lower," the anger came back, "or more thirsty for revenge."

Jason smiled. "I'm sure that you managed to convince yourself of that, and that it got even easier to believe once Dick retired from the cowl and became a devoted family man. But will that conviction remain when your favorite son's little boy dons the yellow cape and puts himself in the Joker's cross hairs?"

Bruce presented his best poker face. "Dick and Barbara raised them as normal kids; there are no plans in place to make either John or Sarah Robin."

"Right." Jason smiled and nodded back toward the dispersing crowd, guiding Bruce's gaze toward John Grayson staring back at them. "Don't bother trying to tell me he doesn't know."

Bruce turned and noted his grandson's gaze. "Until eight hours ago, he didn't."

Jason let out a laugh. "Ha, I may despise the asshole, but I've got to admit that Damian's got a set of balls on him. I'd at least have waited until Barb was cold before trying to wedge her brat into the red and green long johns."

"We're done here." Bruce said as he once again turned to leave, this time Jason made no attempt to stop him; the black sheep of the Wayne family merely met the gaze of the nephew that he had never met before and smiled at the boy.

XXX

John looked down at the tray and casually plucked a deviled egg off of it and carried it to his mouth to bite half of it off as the server turned and walked away toward other mourners milling about the large room. "I figured that your new diet would prohibit you from eating those things." The boy turned to see Laura Kent walking toward him. "I guess the white part of the egg would be fine, but that yellow goop has got to be a no-no."

John raised his finger to his lips and waited until she was right next to him before replying. "We can't talk about that, not everyone here knows."

Laura gave him an exasperated smile. "Nobody heard."

"Maybe, but you still need to be careful. Commissioner Yindel's here, and unlike Grandpa Jim, she's actually out to catch, arrest and prosecute Damian and anyone else who's worn a mask in this town." John whispered. "And for that matter, how did you know I know?"

"The way you're looking at people through those red, sleep deprived eyes." Laura smiled. "Studying them like you're trying to figure out who they are, and then the occasional look of surprise on your face when you think you figured out who one of them is."

"Well, I may know, but I'm not on any diet. My inability to identify more than a couple, and those are really just guesses, lets me know that I really don't have the aptitude for that sort of work." John smiled back at her, and then began to scrutinize her face in an exaggerated manner. "I still haven't figured out who you are…"

"Me?" Laura chuckled, playing along.

"Hmmmm, Black Canary? No, you lack the vocal range for that." John maintained his studious visage and crossed his arms. "Hawkgirl? No, you don't quite have the wingspan. You can't be Wonder Woman or any other Amazon, not with their policy of complete isolationism."

"How about Laura Kent?" Laura replied back, removing her glasses with one hand and reaching out and gently placed her other hand on one of his arms. "You know, the girl you've known since we were both in diapers?"

"Hmmm, an interesting hypothesis, but that begs the question of how a regular girl that I've known since we were in diapers would know my families deepest, darkest secret. Years, apparently, before I learned it."

Laura averted his gaze and seemed to scan the floor for a couple of seconds. "Damian didn't fill you in on that?"

"Damian didn't fill me in on anything, he left me enough clues to find the cave, but it was my dad that did the explaining, and he's really only been able to give me the Cliff's Notes version so far. I'm pretty sure we'll have more time to go over the more detailed history tonight, but so far the exploits of Laura Kent and how she figured out Gotham's biggest secret hasn't been covered." John answered, but delivered a sly smile. "But I do have a theory."

Laura smiled back, removing her hand from his arm and placing both her hands on her hips. "Oh, I need to hear this."

"Well, I figure your parents know because one or both of them likely uncovered it just doing what they do. I mean, they're two of the top reporters in the business. And you probably overheard them talking about it." John proposed, smiling at the beautiful pre-teen girl. "So, how close am I?"

Laura met his smile, but a worried expression came over her face. "It's a good theory, but it's off. And I just realized that while I'd like nothing more than to tell you, it's something that I need to get the OK on."

"Really? I watch the Batmobile pull into my family's roided-out wine cellar, the Batman jump out, pull off his mask to reveal my father's face, and you're still going to be privy to things I don't know?" John shrugged and let his arms flop to the side. He shook his head and started scanning the room again.

Laura cheered up at John's exaggerated, though not that exaggerated grumblings, but a little of that wind left her sails as she noticed John's attention being diverted away from her. "Trying to get more cape sightings?"

"There's one guy I'm hoping to see." John muttered as he continued gazing over the people in the room. "I figured he'd be easy to spot, he doesn't wear a mask, though they never seem to get a good, clear shot of his face because he's always moving or something."

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how good Captain Marvel's disguise really is." Laura poked.

"I'm sure you already know, but I'm not referring to Captain Marvel." John replied.

"Oh, well then, I guess you must be referring to the Man of Steel." Laura suggested, putting exaggerated emphasis on the last three words.

"Yeah. I figure he's got to be here." John commented. "He and Batman shared leadership of the JLA for most of its run, and he was apparently very tight with Nightwing. Plus…well, according to Dad, everyone loved Oracle."

"Your dad's right," Laura came in and hugged John, "everyone loved your mom."

"Yeah, but I still haven't been able to place anyone who could be Superman." John whispered as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"Wow, maybe you really don't have the aptitude for this sort of work." Laura smiled as she hugged him tighter.

"Too bad it was my mother's dying wish that I follow in dad's footsteps." John whispered. "I guess I'd better develop that aptitude."

Laura pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "No. I don't know the pain brought on by the tragedy that powered Bruce and your father, or the desire to live up to legends that fueled Tim and Damian, but they all had a fire burning deep within them that compelled them into action. If you try to do what they did without that fire, you'll only get yourself killed."

John peered down into Laura's eyes with an intensity that startled the girl. "The fire's there, it's been raging since I watched the life leave my mother's body. I just question the effectiveness of dressing up in capes and jumping off rooftops."

Laura chuckled. "Trivialize it all you want, but Batman was and is the greatest crime fighter of all time. Your grandfather figured things out that nobody else in the history of the planet could have figured out. Though only a few I'd guess, as Tim is pretty much right on his heels in that regard, and your father and Damian were less than a step behind him."

"Jeez, I went from following in the footsteps of responsibility-evading playboys to being expected to take my place as the world's greatest detective in less than twenty four hours." John chuckled. "In a way that's a relief. For the longest time I've been secretly disgusted by what my family did, and more importantly, didn't do."

"Move over disgusted; make room for overwhelmed, eh?" Laura quipped as she sidled up next to John and scanned the room with him, taking note that his eyes seemed to have taken rest on Damian comforting Sarah in the corner of the room. "Hmm, right height, similar build, right hair color, but I'm pretty sure he's not Superman."

"No," John replied absently as he focused on his uncle pulling his sister into a comforting hug, and his sister giving into the sobbing that she had been holding off, "I'm sorry Laura, would you excuse me?"

"Of course." Laura replied as she watched John make his way over to the corner. Sarah's anguished, tear-filled eyes caught sight of her brother approaching, and she pulled away from Damian and ran to John. Laura, her glasses still in her hands, watched as John silently held his sister, fruitlessly wishing her pain away, fruitlessly offering to whatever deity was listening to take all her anguish upon his shoulders, and finally realizing that there was no way of making his baby sister whole again, he looked up to his uncle. Laura watched as history was made. There would be many months of training before he would be ready, countless hours of honing his already impressive physical and mental abilities while mastering entirely new ones, but it was this moment, as John gave Damian a resolute nod, that Robin was reborn.

XXX

"If you were planning on stemming this off," Tim muttered as he, Bruce and Dick watched the interaction between Damian, Sarah and John from across the room, "it's too late now."

Dick nodded. "I know." The original Robin glared intently at the current Batman who had just successfully enlisted his son into their war. "Just as Damian had better know that it'll be his ass should anything happen to my boy."

"We'll see to it that John's the most prepared of you all." Bruce spoke as he watched the newly formed Dynamic Duo. "Each of us will devote ourselves to his training. That includes you too, Cassandra."

Tim and Dick turned and noted that their estranged sister was standing several feet behind them. She looked at each of them and nodded. "If I am half the teacher his mother was, then all I know will be passed on to him." She gave Tim a weak smile and then presented Dick a look of sorrow before directing her gaze to Bruce. "I've thought daily about…reaching out. Especially to Bar…" She clenched her eyes tightly closed, unable to finish the name.

"Cassie!" Helena Wayne called out in shock before sprinting across the room and wrapping her estranged sister in a hug.

"I'm missed you so much, Helena." Cassie whispered as she pressed the girl in a tight embrace. She then lifted her gaze to see the two Grayson children hesitantly making their way to her. Sarah had only been four when she left, and while they had been incredibly close, four years for a child of eight was a tremendous amount of time. She clearly remembered her Aunt Cassie, but too much time had passed for her to share Helena's reaction. Cassandra didn't require her ability to read people to see that this was the case with the young child that was tentatively looking at her with disbelieving, tear-streaked eyes. "Hello Sarah." She said as she released Helena and approached the children. She looked over John as well, who was eight when she left and clearly remembered her much better. He was looking her over, obviously pondering what role she would have played in their other world that he so recently had discovered. "Hello John."

"Hello Cassie." John replied, and hesitantly leaned in for a hug. Cassandra disregarded his hesitance and pulled him in tight. He was part Barbara, half of all that was left of her dearest friend and mentor. Cassie then reached out and pulled Sarah in as well, gripping both children tightly as she began to weep into John's shoulder.

Tim watched the reunion, more ecstatic than the other adults that Cassie was back, but still harboring a great deal of resentment regarding the way that she had left four years before. Though focused on the woman hugging the children, he was aware of the man approaching him from the side. Tim turned and smiled. "Hello Clark."

Clark Kent nodded and smiled. "We were wondering if we might have a word with you Tim." Tim nodded and followed as Clark led him to the other side of the large room, where a disguised Oliver Queen, who had adopted a new identity and been going by the name Oliver Flynn for the last fifteen years, Dinah Lance, John Stewart and Roy Harper were waiting, along with an undisguised Kara Kent, Connor Kent and Bart Allen.

Connor stepped forward and wrapped his right arm around Tim, pulling him into a hug. "Jeez man, I'm so sorry. We all loved her, she was…" Connor pulled back and looked at his best friend in the eye, "she was the best. How's your big bro?"

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head. "Destroyed." He then shook it off and opened his eyes, looking at the entire group. "So, what's this all about?"

Clark spoke for the group. "We have a request to make of you. Something that Batman suggested, and that we all agreed was an excellent idea."

Tim eyed the group warily. "I shudder to think of what Damian would suggest for me."

"Don't." Damian said as he approached the group from behind Tim.

Tim stared at Damian, trying to figure out what the younger man was up to. "We want you to be Oracle." Dinah said, the statement causing Tim's gaze to snap away from Damian and latch disbelievingly onto her. Before he could say anything, she continued. "You're the only one who can replace Barbara."

"Honestly, you would likely surpass her." Damian added, his contribution garnering him enraged glares from several of those present, the most heated ones coming from Dinah and Tim. "What?" Damian shrugged. "I love Barbara, and have the utmost respect for her abilities and contributions, but facts are facts. Barb was utterly brilliant with all manner of computer tech and all that that entailed; Tim's more so. Barbara's ability to maneuver and utilize the resources available to her and dispatch them in an extremely effective manner is legendary. But in analysis, preparation and strategy, Timothy rivals my father, and has even managed to have some of Richard's leadership charisma rub off on him. And as far as garnering the loyalty of those that would be called to service by him, it would seem to be a wash from what I can tell. Barbara was loved by all, but I dare say that there isn't a single member of the League, Titans, Outsiders or anyone else who would hesitate for a moment to follow any order given by him."

"Well," Bart muttered, a bit of jest in his voice, "maybe you."

Damian eyed the speedster ominously. "I may refuse to pass him the gravy at dinner, but in the field I would give his words the same weight as those from my father or brother."

"My God," Dinah muttered in disbelief, "even when paying him an amazing compliment, you still feel compelled to be a complete asshole to him." Dinah's disbelief grew as she saw the look of confusion coming over Damian's face, a look that Damian was faking, but faking well enough so that it looked real. "Tim is your brother too!"

Tim chuckled. "Don't sweat it Dinah, I'm not in any hurry to be referred to as Damian's brother." A look of deep thought came over Tim's face as he pondered the offer.

"There should be nothing for you to think about, Drake." Damian hissed. "If you are actually considering staying with your current job as Waller's favorite non-lethal attack dog, then you can consider this offer rescinded."

Tim glared at Damian. "I will accept the responsibility of being Oracle, and I will commit everything I have to honoring Barbara's memory and serving justice. It's just a little daunting." Tim looked to the others and smiled. "I do need to phrase my letter of resignation carefully. We'd all be best served having Amanda Waller on the Oracle's speed dial."

"As long as the information flow only goes in one direction; her to you, then yes," Clark replied, "She would be a tremendous asset." Clark turned and looked toward the Wayne reunion with Cassandra Cane. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not be standing with all of you when your new partner turns and looks in this direction. If he sees me chatting with this group he just might figure out who I am."

"Of course he'll figure out who you are, you have the world's shittiest disguise." Damian remarked smugly. "Though that might be a good thing. With his looks and the Grayson charm, the only thing that could keep him from bedding your daughter would be fear of her Kryptonian father."

Clark's eyes grew wide with anger, but he restrained himself and walked away.

"They're twelve!" Dinah snarled in both shock and rage.

Damian once again shrugged. "So was I when…"

"Shut up Damian!" Tim snapped.

Ollie just chuckled and shook his head as everyone else glared at the current Batman. "Who'd have thought that the chip would be more obnoxious, arrogant and insensitive than the block?"

X

John turned to get a drink of water and let his grandfather and Aunt Cassie catch up, and saw a group of people glaring at Damian. In the group was Tim, his uncle Roy Harper, who wasn't an actual uncle, just a good friend of his father's, Connor Kent, Clark's nephew and Tim's best friend, and several other people, including a man he recognized as the Green Lantern John Stewart. John's mind started racing at realizing that Roy and Connor, two men he had known his entire life, were likely in the costumed vigilante world given that they were chatting it up with his uncles and a Green Lantern. "Wow, the gears are really turning behind those baby blues."

John broke out of his pondering and shifted his gaze to the left, where Laura was walking toward him. "So what's the deal with your cousin?"

Laura turned and saw Conner put his hands on the shoulders of Tim and Bart, leading them away from the group to catch up. "He's probably got a new fart joke to tell Tim and Bart."

"Not what I was…" John noted the look on the girl's face, one letting him know not to bother asking. "A new piece to the puzzle that I need to find the place for."

"Sorry, I wish I could help, but, you know." Laura shrugged and smiled. "Anyway, Dad mentioned that we're going to be going soon, and I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you to call me anytime."

John looked down and nodded. "Thanks, I'll be OK though. Dad has Sarah and I'm seeing a shrink, so if I need to bubble over about Mom," the boy trailed off.

Laura stepped closer and lifted John's chin up with her finger, forcing their eyes to lock. "I am always available if you want to talk about your mom, but I want you to call for other reasons too." A quivering smile came to the girl's lips for a moment as she kicked something around in her head, finally gathering the guts to act on it, she leaned in and kissed John's lips, gently, but enough to let him know that it was much more than a friendly peck. She pulled away and smiled at him. "So are you going to call me?"

"Ye…yeah!" The stunned boy muttered as a goofy smile spread over his face.

"You'd better, Boy Wonder." The girl leaned in again and quietly whispered into his ear before pulling back and smiling. "I'd better say goodbye to your sister and the rest of your family."

John nodded and watched her leave, his head turning back toward the direction he had last seen his Uncle Tim and his friends, but noticed that standing between them was Mr. and Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent bearing an arched eyebrow while Mrs. Kent seemed to be suppressing a smirk. John exhaled. "Oh man."

X

John reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hallway toward his room, or at least his bedroom in the Manor. His father and sister had gone back to their home, Sarah being told that John was staying at the Manor so that he could start getting acquainted with the family business hands on the next morning. The statement was true enough. John was to get a full night's sleep, get up at six, meet in the cave, and begin training. From the looks his father and Tim exchanged when the subject was brought up, John knew that he was in for a more grueling ordeal than he could imagine; which was welcome. It was something that he could lose himself in, something that would take away from constantly reliving his failure to save his mother.

In light of the exhausting day he had in store for him, as well as working on virtually no sleep, and just finishing a very tiring day, he really needed a full night's rest. But that kiss from Laura would undoubtedly keep him up for at least a couple more hours. Any thoughts regarding the kiss or his coming battle with insomnia were quickly forgotten as he caught sight of the man standing before the window, looking out over the acres of Wayne property. "This used to be my room." The man said, not bothering to turn around.

John had frozen at seeing the man, but forced himself to continue into the room as nonchalantly as possible. "I know." The boy reached the center of the room and stopped. "I don't know your entire story, up until this morning I'd had no reason to question the official story of you having died at fifteen. But I do know that while you have things that you need to answer for, they all want you back, and I'd have no problem giving up the room."

The man, Jason Todd, turned from the window and faced the boy with a smile. "That's sweet, but inaccurate. Damian and Drake have no interest in me returning to the fold, your father has long since washed his hands of me, and I think that I've finally breached the bounds of Bruce's monumental sense of guilt."

John shrugged. "Maybe you're right, maybe not. As I said, I don't know the entire story." The boy eyed the man, noting that despite being a bit larger, the scar, more white hair and an overall more weathered appearance, this man did look remarkably like his father, to the point where it was a slight bit offsetting to the boy. "So, according to the little I have been told, we find ourselves on opposite sides of the battle lines." John eyed the man carefully, his body tensing slightly.

Jason recognized the child's implied question. "Relax; I don't attack civilians, which is what you are until you pass the Gauntlet. And even if I did, I have too much respect for your mother to attack you at a time like this. I'm just here to finally meet my nephew." Jason held out his hand.

John looked at it, and only hesitated for a moment before taking it. "It's nice to meet you Jason." John peered into the man's eyes. "I'd rather not be enemies, but I'm afraid that this may be the last chance we have for a friendly conversation."

Jason smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Can I ask you something?" John waited for Jason's nod before continuing. "Dad said you'd been through things we couldn't imagine, so that may be playing a role in this, but…why?"

Jason stared at the twelve year old that would soon be taking up the role that Jason had inherited from the boy's father. "Why kill? Why remain at odds with the family? Why swat away the olive branches that have been offered throughout the years?" Jason intensified his gaze. "Because I'm right." The man softened a bit before continuing. "Tomorrow morning you will asked to take an oath, one involving your dedication to justice and your preservation of human life, and you'll take it, because being an idealistic kid whose not yet experienced enough to become the cynical bastard we all eventually become, you'll believe in it, and even if you do have questions about the effectiveness of a war where you're constantly allowing your enemies to fight and kill another day, there's no going forward without taking Bruce's oath. So you'll take it, but it won't be long before you realize that Bruce's way doesn't work. Monsters, and make no mistake, they are monsters, need to be put down. Thieves deserve Batman, low level hired goons deserve Batman, bookies, loan sharks and pimps, provided they don't go too far, deserve Batman. But murderers, rapists, drug dealers; they deserve me!"

"And the fact that you, yourself, are a murderer?" John questioned.

"Come on John, you're smarter than that." Jason responded disappointedly. "Hell, even Bruce, with his unalterable black and white view of the world, can see the difference between an executioner throwing a switch and the bag of shit that's getting juiced for killing a family of five. I may not be duly deputized by the state of New Jersey to kill these animals, but make no mistake, the decent human beings of the world are better off with me doing what I do."

John shifted uneasily. "I'm really not up for a debate like this right now, nor do I think I'm the one you should be having it with."

Jason looked at the boy for a moment before nodding. "Yes, you're probably right. But just let me make you aware of one of my viewpoints; Bruce is not responsible for the lives lost and ruined by the Joker's initial rampage, but I do hold him responsible for every bit of carnage that the Joker has caused since. Bruce may not have recognized the extent, but I'm certain that he was well aware that he had a mad dog in his hands the first time he caught smiley boy, and had he put him down then, thousands of deaths, including mine, never would have occurred." Jason's gaze turned to the floor, and then back to John, a very solemn look in his eyes. "As well as the thousands of victims that the Joker's endeavors didn't kill, including a beautiful, athletic redhead. You never saw the way she moved before…"

"Stop." The boy said coolly. "Don't." John looked away and shook his head. "I'm done." He turned back and stared at Jason. "I'm glad I met you. I'm glad we had a chance to talk, and I hope we get to again…civilly, and not just trading barbs while trying to kill each other in silly costumes. But I've had my fill for now."

Jason nodded. "Understood. And I hope that too. I like you John, you're not as full of the righteous bullshit as the rest of the family." Jason started toward the door, gently squeezing the boy's shoulder as he passed. "A trait you must have gotten from your mother, God rest her soul." Jason continued on, but stopped before reaching the door. "You'll kick around what I've said to you, and you'll dismiss it. Not for any logical reason, even Bruce can't argue against the pragmatic benefits to killing these bastards. You'll dismiss it but because it will be drilled into you that you don't have the right to take a life. When this ideal is at its most certain and fully ensconced in you, take a look at file number Eight Two Four Nine Seven. It was a crime that occurred while I was Robin, one of the last major crimes to occur during my tour, and oddly enough, it was an investigation that I didn't take part in due to me being out of town. But I did study that file, and it sickened me. It'll do even more to you." With that Jason walked out of the room and turned down the hall, addressing the men waiting outside, eavesdropping in on their conversation. "Evening boys, you don't mind me using the front door, do you?"

There seemed to be no objection, and a moment later Tim poked his head in and looked at John. "Get some sleep, you'll need it."

X

"Hey Sis," Helena Wayne turned to see Jason trotting down the wide main stairway, flash her a smile and continue on toward the front door, losing his smile as he caught sight of the woman behind her and nodding to Helena Bertinelli, "Substitute."

"I'm still not sure I get it." Helena Wayne muttered quietly to the older Helena as they turned away from the Wayne's blackest sheep leaving the house and returned to collecting the personal items laid out for the funeral; predominantly pictures, but other items as well, things that needed to be gathered up by family, and not the cleaning staff. "They knew Jason was up there, yet they let John head up there without even warning him, and then Jason just walks out the front door without so much as a scratch."

"Jason wasn't going to pull anything." The older Helena said.

"Yeah, but why even let Jason talk to him?"

"My guess is that Dick would probably want him to." The former Huntress replied. "Aside from the cape and cowl lifestyle, your brother has always gone out of his way to be completely honest with his kids."

"Yeah, I suppose so, but it still seems like an unnecessary risk to be taking." The teenager answered. "And why does he call you 'Substitute'? Something to do with you being a teacher."

"You'd think, but no." The older Helena replied, a sour look coming over her face. "He's not very fond of me; more so than with any of your brothers, even Tim. It all stems from him thinking of me as a kindred spirit due to my willingness to be more violent than your family, but when it all came down to it, I made him aware of where my loyalties lie in a very harsh manner."

"So what does the term mean?"

The woman in her early forties glared at the door. "He said substituting a 'C' for the 'H' in my name would be more apt."

The teenager peered at her namesake quizzically. "Celena?"

"My other name."

"Oh." The girl also glared at the door. "What a jerk."

Helena Bertinelli chuckled inwardly as she lifted a picture of herself and Barb, one taken shortly before the wedding, the baby bump just starting to show on the bride to be. Helena smiled at the memory of the time the picture was taken. It was at a Mexican restaurant, a cuisine that Babs had always liked, but had been ravenous for during her pregnancy with John. As one would expect from the offspring of the world's greatest acrobat, John would bounce around and do somersaults like a maniac in Barbara's womb, but never more so than when spicy food was being sent his way. As the waiter was taking the picture, Babs was suppressing laughter at the Grayson quadruple somersault that was going on inside her at that moment. Helena first noticed the wet tear streaking down her cheek, and then the sixteen year old looking up at her. "I'm fine, just some memories jump out at you without warning sometimes." She said as she gently brushed the girl's cheek.

"Yeah, I know." The younger Helena replied with a sad smile.

"Enough of this morbidity." Helena Bertinelli cut in as she forced a subject change. "So its official, John's going to be Robin."

The teenager looked around. There was nobody within earshot, but she was still a bit taken aback by the brazenness of discussing this out where servants could wander. She looked up at the other woman. "Yes, it would appear that way."

"And how pissed does that make you?"

The sixteen year old shook her head and looked away. "It doesn't. I mean, yeah, I want to be a part of it, but it's Damian's call." The girl stared at the floor for a moment. "Besides, I've seen what John can do, so I can't fault Damian. John's just like his father, and Dick's the bar that the role is measured by."

"Look kid, I love John, and am just as impressed as everyone else by the natural talent at his disposal," the older Helena stated as she leaned in closer to the girl, "but frankly, you're acquiescence is total bullshit! You think John's the only one have a good pedigree? The only one to come from good stock? Jesus Helena, you're the daughter of Batman and Catwoman!" She noted an odd look flash across the girl's face. "Yeah, Drake told me, as if I haven't always known."

"Fine, I'm pissed!" The younger Helena snapped, turning to make sure her little outburst didn't draw any attention. "I've trained my ass off since I was six, I'm better than Mom ever was. I'd mop the floor with John right now, and truth be told, I'm nearly as good a detective as Damian! Hell, aside from Damian, I've had more training than any of them by this age!" She then looked intently into her namesake's eyes and displayed a bit of a smile. "And as good as these little ninjas get at disguising themselves; there are just some places it takes a hot chick to get into." The teenage girl shook her head as her face contorted in anger. "So yeah, I guess you're right. I'd love to kick the snot out of Damian right now, and I've got some harsh words for Dad and Dick for letting him box me out."

"To hell with them and their boys' club!" The older woman asserted quietly. "There are other avenues for you to pursue, other ways to dispense justice, other mantles to take up." The girl's eyes grew wide with an unsaid question, and the older woman nodded as she replied. "It's yours if you want it."

XXX

Bruce and his disciples liked to think of Jason as a mad dog vigilante killer, though they all knew that he wasn't, the estranged member of the Bat-family thought to himself. They had a tendency to portray him as someone who unreasonably went after any lawbreaker and gunned them down. The fact was that Jason wasn't anything like that. He felt wholeheartedly that the punishment should fit the crime, and there weren't all that many crimes deserving of capital punishment. Murderers, pedophiles, rapists and drug dealers all needed to die. Even extreme cases of theft, where a perpetrator would leave people destitute or topple organizations leaving people without their livelihood, might prompt him to exact the ultimate punishment. But Jason didn't kill for lesser offenses.

The man smiled as he walked into the upper-scale hotel he had registered in under an assumed identity, realizing that he needed to amend his appraisal of himself. He had tried to kill Drake, Dick and Damian throughout the years. But had he really? He had Drake completely at his mercy on more than one occasion, yet the little shit still lived. And his introduction to Damian had him shooting the child in the chest – but that was actually merciful. These were rounds that were meant for the family, non-armor piercing rounds, and sent into the most armored part of the boy's uniform. The shots, thrusts and other would-be kill strikes intended for Grayson, and for Drake and the junior Wayne at later confrontations were thrown because anything less than lethality against warriors of their caliber would be a pathetic joke. Had he tried to kill them only because he knew he wouldn't? Jason pondered this as the elevator took him up to the seventh floor; forcing himself to visualize his reactions at each battle were he to have actually killed one of his brothers. The man shrugged as he realized that while he might have a few moments of remorse for Grayson, one of their deaths at his hands wouldn't bring about the onslaught of grief that an agent of justice should feel upon the killing of a mis-guided, but ultimately good and noble fellow agent. And when he runs into Grayson's son?

The pondering came to a stop as Jason entered the suite and was immediately aware that there were other people in the unit with him. His initial thought was that it was the family, but he discarded that right away. He hadn't killed anyone since coming to Gotham, and the beating up of the two muggers an hour ago wasn't any worse than any one of them would do. Hell, it was far more merciful than the beating Damian would deliver. That, and the fact that any member of the family would be a lot less obvious that whoever was here. Jason drew his revolver and scanned the room. Tossed on the kitchenette table was a bridal veil, a necklace made up of a string with about a dozen tiny rubber penises around it, and a nearly empty bottle of Champagne. On the couch was a very expensive looking leather jacket, and on the floor near the couch were a semi-formal pair of white women's shoes. The sound of whimpering was coming from the bedroom and Jason leveled his gun at the door just as it was pulled open. His finger tensed, ready to obliterate whatever emerged. A tear-streaked redheaded woman in her early twenties fell on the 'don't-kill' side of Jason's equation. She scrambled out, looking on the floor for her shoes, whispering to herself between the whimpers. "Oh God, Warren, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." She was pretty, a solid eight but nothing phenomenal, though Jason did find the heart-shaped tattoo over her right ankle to be oddly appealing.

The young woman grabbed her shoes and lifted up to leave, freezing as she saw the large gun pointed at her face, and slowly looking past it toward the scar-faced man wielding it. Jason winked and shifted his arm so that the gun was once again pointed at the doorway to the bedroom. "Hello Sweetheart, mind telling me who's in the bedroom?"

"I thought I heard you come in." A familiar voice called out from the bedroom.

"Oh for Christ's sake, you're really that pissed that I talked to the kid?" Jason snarled, genuine surprise mixed in with the annoyed rage. "Pissed enough to seduce some random bachelorette on my bed?" The statement caused a louder whimper from the woman. "And you have the audacity to refer to me as the bad guy?" Jason had let his grip of the gun relax just a bit, but the figure emerging from the room caused him to go back on full alert. Jason struggled to comprehend what he was looking at. The face of the individual, who was wearing nothing but green silk boxers, was a semi-match for the voice, but the stature and physique were definitely off. Standing before him was Damian Wayne, but not the Damian Wayne he had seen just a couple hours before. This one was at least five inches too short, and though very muscular, it was the lean musculature of a teenage boy, far too slender to be Damian. Jason took a thorough look of the intruder and marveled at how he looked identical to how Damian looked in his early to mid teens. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"How about we allow Mary here to collect her things and depart before we get into that." The boy suggested as he took a seat on the couch, leaning back and giving the woman a saucy wink.

Jason turned to the woman and nodded at her, a serious look on his face. "Mary, it would be in your best interest if you were to get the hell out and forget everything you've seen and done here." The woman nodded, let out one last whimper, grabbed her stuff on the table and scampered out of the suite.

"I'm afraid that it will be impossible for her to forget what has transpired here," the teenager grinned at Jason as the man walked to the bedroom door, scanned for others, and then took a seat across from the intruder, keeping his pistol on him the entire time, "you see, I'm fairly certain that she was ovulating."

"And you know this how?" Jason asked with a mixture of skepticism and disinterest.

"My training has encompassed many curriculums, and been very thorough." The boy's smile broadened. "And like with anyone else, I find the most enjoyable classes to be the easiest to retain."

"So Talia hired some high end hookers to teach you how to screw," Jason smirked dismissively, "lucky kid."

"Yeah, I doubt Damian would have stayed at least until the end of puberty had he known this." The boy chuckled.

"And you didn't wear a rubber I presume?" Jason asked.

"Why would I bother with such abominations, especially when many of my private bathrooms are equipped with Lazarus Pits?" The boy replied.

"Right." Something suddenly occurred to Jason. "Hmm, you called him Damian, implying that you aren't." Jason mused. "Which would eliminate time or dimensional travel."

"My name is Ghazi al Xu'ffasch, and I'm certain that you're aware of how I came into being." The boy replied. "Yes, the League has been capable of human cloning for quite some time."

Jason chuckled. "Lose the arrogance Ghazi, the brotherhood of former Robins has been able to create hybrid humans and Kryptonians for quite some time."

"Yes, apparently to provide dates for your children." The boy snarked back with a grin. "And it's not any brotherhood, it's only Drake. Besides, I'm pretty sure that you have long since been blackballed from that little club."

Jason nodded. "Can't belittle League intelligence gathering I see."

"And you need not call me Ghazi al Xu'ffasch, like with my brother I have an Arabic name that refers to my Anglo father's heritage, and have selected an Anglo name that refers to my maternal family's heritage." The teenager replied. "You may call me Devlin Wayne if it is easier for your uneducated tongue to pronounce."

Jason nodded and then leaned forward toward the intruder. "Alright Devlin, let me straighten something out for you. The 'children' you refer to are off limits. When you're off trying to live up to your Arabic name and conquer the bat, you'd better make sure that no harm comes to Helena or Sarah, and John's off limits until he completes the Gauntlet, which is at least six months off." The man leaned back. "And that's assuming he doesn't come to his senses and wind up siding with dear old Uncle Jason."

"And here I was hoping you'd consider me for your partner." Devlin said with faux disappointment.

"You want to do what I do?" Jason asked with a smirk. "Alright," he took a chance and tossed the pistol at the boy, "a pedophile is leaving this hotel. Dispense some justice."

Devlin smiled. "She's no pedophile, and I'm certainly no victim. As you can see, I have no problem passing for college age." Devlin lost his smile as he saw Jason roll his eyes at the assertion. "Well I look old enough so that the bouncers at the bar I met her at had no inclination to question the driver's license I presented to them, and none of her friends thought to question my claim that I was a senior at Princeton. I told her I was twenty-two and she met me in a bar, I believe that the woman deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"And when you got back and she saw you lacked hair on your balls?" Jason countered, barely keeping a straight face.

Devlin failed to acknowledge the humor in the statement. "Trust me, foundling, I am not lacking hair on my balls."

Jason chuckled, stood up, took the pistol away from Devlin, and sat back down. "Fine, so tell me, other than knocking up other guys' brides to be, what brings you to my temporary abode?"

Devlin nodded. "As you've already guessed, I'm here to live up to my name and conquer the bat. But I need time, intelligence, leverage and a plan."

"And you think I'll help?" Jason asked.

"I know you will help."


	3. Chapter 3

John kept his eyelids shut and extended his other senses outward, maintaining his breathing as it had been moments before as he slept, taking in as much of his environment as his hearing, smell and touch would allow without giving any external indication that he was no longer sleeping; just as he'd been trained to do. Of course, all that his hearing provided him with was birds chirping in the light breeze outside, a light breeze flowing in from the west based on the leaves of the trees that seemed to be rustling, and his sister rolling in her bed down the hall. His smell confirmed that the breeze was coming in from the west, as the odor of Mr. Bobbert's horse stable the lot over was all too clearly detectable. Touch informed him that the sheets covering his body were either his or close enough to convince him that they were his, and that as with the last two months, he was no longer sore from the previous day's physical training regimen. After four months his body was impossibly efficient and ready for the role destined for him, but he still had a lot to learn. John opened his eyes, gauging the light, or rather, lack of light shining through the slats of his blinds, and taking into account the early October date he made a guesstimate. "Six forty-three."

The boy looked over at the clock on the bedside table and grumbled as he saw 6:52 flashing at him in green. He pulled himself out of bed, chuckling as he had been in the exact same position he had been in nine and a half hours earlier when he had first crawled under the sheet. He hadn't woken up, or even moved in the slightest bit since laying down last night, and his bladder was confirming that with great urgency. As he made his way to the bathroom he noted that his earlier assessment of his nocturnal activities was a bit off, there was part of his body that had moved, and he would need to employ a meditation technique if he wanted to urinate comfortably anytime in the next two minutes; one of the downsides to being an adolescent boy. But employing one of Bruce's relaxation exercises en-route to the bathroom worked well enough so that upon getting there, things were calmed down to the point where he could answer nature's call with just a slight bit of leaning forward.

John finished, washed his hands, brushed his teeth and started toward the bathroom door to grab a bite downstairs before heading to the manor for a mild workout. Every training regimen required the athlete a recovery day from time to time, and today was John's; a tremendous gift in that it happened to fall on a Saturday for once. Physically his time in the cave would consist of stretching and mild aerobics, and mentally it would be going over three or four old case files, ones that Bruce and Damian promised would be easy for him to solve, before a review of computer hacking techniques with Tim. No combat, no advanced forensics, no escapology, no chemistry, no medical training, no pushing his lactate threshold or VO2 Max levels to even more impossible levels, and no insane aerials with his father. He had always known his father was good with the ropes, but he had no idea to what degree of mastery the older Grayson had at aerials. Tim had informed him that Checkmate had his father listed as a potential meta based on several bits of footage of him as Robin, Nightwing and Batman doing skyline acrobatics that no human being should theoretically be able to do; and while Tim would never say it, he, Bruce and especially Damian were expecting John to follow in his father's aerial wake.

The boy turned out of the bathroom and shuddered from surprise at seeing his father leaning against the wall. "Jeez!" The boy' surprised but quiet voice rang down the hall. He sent his father a glare. "You're sneakier than Bruce."

"No, but I'm still better at the stealthy stuff than anyone but him, even Damian." Dick smirked as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder and led him down the stairs. "So, you have any plans for this afternoon?"

"You know I do." John muttered as they reached the foyer and turned toward the kitchen of the large house, but not as large as many would assume Wayne heirs to be living in.

"Oh, that's right," Dick coyly feigned recalling as they walked into the kitchen, "Laura's going to be in town. Figured out where you two lovebirds are going to have lunch?"

John pulled out the Cheerios as his father started whipping him up an egg white omelet with various vegetables thrown into the mix, a television in the adjoining family room was on providing background noise. "Look, I realize that you're my father, and that this is your house, and that it would be both unethical as well as impossible for me to force you to do anything, which is why I'll ask nicely not to refer to Laura and I as lovebirds again."

"What?" Dick chuckled. "You don't like being referred to in such a way?"

"No." The boy muttered before shoving a spoonful of cereal and milk into his mouth, continuing as he chomped away. "I don't and I know she wouldn't."

"But it's a pretty good fit." Dick chuckled. "You're going to be a robin, which is a bird, and the two of you are in love, right?"

John groaned. "We're twelve. Any twelve year old that uses the 'L' word needs a good butt-whooping." The boy turned to look at the television in the next room, taking in the scene of U.N. members apparently discussing the deteriorating situation with what appeared to be the new military government of Atlantis. "So it's pretty much official, huh? General Zarin's forces have finally cemented control?" The boy shook his head. "His anti-surface rhetoric has always been extremely intense, you think this'll get beyond the saber-rattling stages with the Atlanteans?"

Dick turned and glanced at the television. "Hard to say. Arthur could certainly be prickly to deal with, but ultimately he was reasonable and only wanted what was best for his people, which rarely, if ever involved war. But he's gone, as is…" the forty year old man paused for a moment as painful memories came rushing forward, "as is Garth. Zarin's faction is hyper-nationalistic, and he's big on giving us what he feels is our comeuppance, but there's always hope that they can be reasoned with."

"Always hope, until they create some seismic events on the ocean floor and wipe out the eastern coastlines of North America and the western coastlines of Europe and North Africa with tsunamis." John muttered as he polished off his Cheerios, then watched his father scoop the awful looking omelet onto a plate. "Man, that stuff looks toxic."

"Aw, quit eggs-agerating." Dick chuckled.

"Ughn," John groaned, "I'm not going to be expected to make with the bad jokes that you love so much when I graduate into the role, am I?"

"Ah, so it's no longer 'if' you make it into the role, huh?" Dick asked as he slid the plate and a fork in front of his son as he sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "Someone is getting cocky."

"Confident." John replied as he looked down at the mess of a breakfast with disdain. "You know, Alfred is able to create breakfasts that are even healthier than this and make them taste delicious too. Couldn't you at least put forth the effort to make them, I don't know, palatable?"

Dick chuckled. "There's a lot I'm good at. But neither the circus nor crime fighting required me to learn how to cook, so I never did. Just be thankful that Sarah's still in bed so you don't need to pretend to like it."

Almost on cue, the soft patter of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs and the father and son looked toward the hall to see Sarah rubbing her eyes and smiling at the two of them. "Good morning."

"Hey Sarah." John said.

"Good morning Beautiful." Dick smiled at his daughter. "What can I fix for you?"

"Just cereal." Sarah replied as she climbed into the bar stool next to her brother and glared at the forkful of goop he was shoveling into his mouth. "How can you eat that stuff?"

John displayed a smile for his sister as he chewed away, then turned to his father, wiping the smile from his face as he answered his sister's question barely understandably through the partially chewed mess. "It's delicious."

XXX

"So I take it that wasn't you at the docks last night." Tim muttered as he sat down next to Damian on the mat to begin his warm up stretching.

Damian lifted his forehead off of his knee and turned slightly toward his foster brother. "Excellent work detective. What gave it away, the crossbow bolts in the gangbangers various limbs or that their descriptions of their assailant detailed more cleavage in the Huntress costume than I would present in such an outfit?"

"Oh, I wouldn't sell yourself short," Tim chuckled as he lowered himself over his outstretched legs, "you've got an impressive pair of tits, though they are a bit too hairy to look right in an armored bustier. Unless of course you've shaved them."

Damian smiled as he switched legs to stretch. "They're called pectorals Drake, and despite what Drake and Grayson's DNA may think, they're supposed to have hair on them. I make no apologies for being a man, and barring any requirement for it that this job might present, would never shave my chest."

"Hairy chested love god, huh?" Tim chuckled, but winced as he twisted his bad knee. "I'm a little surprised to hear you willing to discuss Huntress's cleavage, though."

"Why's that?" Damian replied, having noticed the wince, but having no intention of drawing attention to it. "I have a great fondness for cleavage, it's one of the few things that the tabloids have gotten right about me." Damian twisted his head and glanced at Drake, noticing the look of surprise displayed by the other man. "What?"

"Don't be a moron." Was all Tim said as he turned his attention back to stretching.

Damian thought for a moment before realizing what the other man was alluding to. "No. I realize that this Huntress can't be Bertinelli, but I know it's not her."

"And why not?" Tim asked. "She's been waiting to be Robin for years, and now you're grooming John for that."

"She wouldn't do that to me." Damian countered.

"Yeah, she would." Tim answered, chuckling lightly. "Of course she would. You're an asshole whose been overlooking her; overlooking her obvious abilities, her skill level, and the enormous contributions that she would bring."

Damian looked away. "I don't deny that she has legitimate issues with me, but I still am certain that she would not do this. Especially since this Huntress, whoever she is, is likely responsible for the string of dead mobsters, dealers and pimps that have been popping up the last few weeks."

"I've got to tell you," Tim chimed in, "based on the evidence, I don't think that was done by the Huntress, whoever she may be."

Damian peered into the dark cavern beyond their immediate work area in thought. "Enough of this discussion, time will prove me right. So how is John progressing at the computer training?"

Tim resumed his light chuckling and nodded. "He's Oracle's son, that's for sure. It's getting harder and harder for me to keep him out of file number Eight Two Four Nine Seven."

"Then don't." Damian smiled. "He knows what happened to his mother, let him see the file pertaining to it."

"Are you insane?" Tim grumbled. "Despite all he can do, he's still just a twelve year old boy. Do you really want him seeing pictures of his mother…like that? The video of his grandfather going through that carnival hell? All with that bastard singing in the background?"

Damian paused and slowly nodded. "Alright, keep it from him. But it's good training, so keep that carrot dangling there, just always stay a step or two ahead of him."

"Easier said than done." Tim answered. "As I said, he is Oracle's son."

"He was Oracle's son. He's Oracle's nephew now." Damian countered.

"True, I guess." Tim answered. "Well, as Oracle, I should probably make Batman aware that the situation with Atlantis is worsening by the minute."

"Get Kent to intervene." Damian grumbled as he rose to his feet. "He's the League's goodwill ambassador. I'm more an ambassador of ill will."

Tim shook his head as he continued stretching. "Nope, these guys are intransigent, they're unwilling to see any of us, even Superman. They have open relations with Themyscira, but, as you know, we do not, so using Diana, Donna or any other Amazon is not an option."

Damian grumbled. "Bad things happen to everyone, Queen Diana cannot continue holding the world of man responsible for the actions of one rogue theocracy that has a problem with strong women."

"They set off a nuke on Themyscira, killing over two thousand Amazons, including her mother, and rendering a large portion of their land uninhabitable." Tim countered. "Their retaliation was brutal, but in the minds of most, justified. And our collective response to that retaliation was that of cowards, hiding behind feigned indignation over their right to reply to an unprovoked attack."

"Agreed, but we should not be lumped in with the spineless vermin that the ignorant masses chose for leaders!" Damian growled. "Should Diana and her sisters be pissed? Absolutely. Was their devastation of those bastards justified? Yes. Their dismantling of every Sharia-based government? Perhaps. But the Amazons got their pound of flesh! Those that a war with Atlantis will kill off won't be the cowards in the pockets of desperate oil barons, and Diana knows this!"

Tim shrugged. "Maybe you're right, but the Amazons appear to be just as intransigent as the Atlanteans."

Damian ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. "We need an in with the Themyscirans."

XXX

Laura had been told not to be surprised if she had arrived at the somewhat out of the way restaurant before John, as Tim had a tendency to be overly thorough and it wasn't uncommon for his lessons to run a bit long. Laura didn't mind as she asked to be seated, using the fake name that John had chosen to leave the reservation under, not that a reservation was necessary for the half empty restaurant. The low profile restaurant and fake name were John's attempt to avoid a replay of what had happened the last time they were out having a meal together. One patron noticed the Wayne heir, and within ten minutes a handful of paparazzi had emerged from the cracks in the floor and hounded them until they managed to get to Wayne Tower.

While not where one would expect the grandson of Bruce Wayne to take an afternoon date, Laura was convinced that he could be recognized quite easily here as well. Of course, after the wrecking ball that was taken to the careers of the photographers for ambushing the underage son of the nations most powerful media empire and the underage daughter of two of the journalism's most prominent living members, there was a good chance that many photographers would choose not to act on the tip. But as Laura sat down and casually looked to the door that she had entered through moments before, she laughed out loud at seeing John's further attempt at anonymity. "Oh my gosh, please tell me you didn't steal those glasses from a Buddy Holly wax exhibit."

John smiled at her as he walked past the front counter and made his way around the tables toward the waiting Laura, nodding to the hostess that had seated his girlfriend while pushing up his thick, dark framed glasses. "Our basement has an endless supply of this stuff." He commented as he slid next to her in the booth, leaning over and kissing her. "You should swing by in a couple weeks to pick out a Halloween costume. You'd make an incredibly hot Riddler henchgirl."

"Ohhh, a retro look." Laura giggled. "Not a bad suggestion, and it might give me the chance to spar with the newest Robin." She smiled and paused as the waitress, a heavy-set woman in her forties, made her way over to them. "Hello."

"Hi, my name is Ruby and I'll be your server today." The woman smiled at the kids. "Can I start you out with something to drink?"

"I'll have a Sprite." Laura replied.

The waitress looked to John, who despite wearing the thick-rimmed glasses, was still concerned with being recognized and had his face pointed down into the menu. "I'll have an ice tea."

"Alright, I'll get those right out to you." Ruby smiled and turned away.

"Soooooo," Laura smiled and reached over to grab John's right hand and pulled it away from the menu he was holding, clasping it as she forced his attention on to her, "how's the training going?"

John smiled and squeezed her hand gently. "My body's pretty much used to the wringer now, and I almost look forward to the punishment, but the mental learning is ridiculous. It never ends, and the level of detail I'm expected to recognize and retain…it's just tough to keep up." John glided the fingers of his other hand over the back of Laura's hand, gently tracing lines as he continued talking. "So how's lacrosse?"

"Anticlimactic compared to superhero training." Laura grinned.

"Metropolis has superheroes, Gotham has crime fighters." John clarified with a grin. "And I've been waiting to hear about you for days, so quit dodging."

"Whatever heroboy." Laura chuckled. "You wear a cape; you're a superhero."

"Well then, I may just have to skip the whole Robin phase and move right up to Nightwing."

"And what, alternate nights on the job with your father or just force him into real retirement?"

John smiled and looked away, toward the front of the restaurant. "Dad only goes out once in a…"

Laura noted John's attention being diverted. "What?"

John studied the front of the restaurant for a few more seconds before replying, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Get down and stay down." John rose to his feet and started walking ahead. Laura turned to see two slender men of medium height in sweatshirts and jeans, both looking to be in their mid twenties and very disheveled looking. And both appeared to be high on something and very agitated.

The hostess approached one of the men, who responded to her approach by pulling a pistol out from his jean's waistband underneath the bottom of his sweatshirt. "Don't move!" His friend followed suit, pulling out a pistol and waving it at all the patrons as his friend continued screaming. "No…nobody move or I'll blow your ffff" the man started tweaking, but managed to recover, "your fu…"

"Hey!" The other man shouted, directing the gun toward the four-eyed John walking toward them. "Get down!"

John leaned forward as if to get on the ground, reached down, grabbed the leg of a chair and flipped it up into the air. The gun-wielding men followed the chair with their eyes for a moment before directing their attention back toward where the boy had been. John however was on the move, sprinting forward, leaping off the corner of a table and flipping in the air, his glasses flying off in the process, and landing right next to the first gunman. Before the gunman could turn his head to follow John's movements, his wrist was being gripped and twisted, forcing his body to flip. As John twisted to flip the first assailant over, he drove his left foot into the side of the other gunman's left knee, causing it to buckle and forcing the man to cry out in pain as he started to drop.

John then leapt toward the second gunman, who despite dropping to his knees, was still aware enough to work through the pain coming from his knee and try and point the gun at the boy. John caught the man's gun-wielding wrist with one hand, grasped it with his second hand and twisted the man's arm over, pointing both the tip of the weapon and his straightened elbow up toward the ceiling. John then reached back with his left hand and drove his left palm down onto the back of the man's elbow, breaking his arm and causing him to release the weapon, which John claimed.

John then immediately leapt into the air, springing off the back of the disarmed would-be robber and flipped over the first gunman, who was scrambling to get up from his back to a kneeling position. John landed behind him and pistol-whipped him across the back of the head, knocking him out. John was facing the front of the restaurant, just ahead of him, near the corner, were a couple of unoccupied booths, each with a container of ketchup on them. John walked over, his back to everyone, grabbed a plastic ketchup bottle, squeezed some into his hand, and smeared it over his closed eyes before turning around. He looked to Laura. "Grab everything we've touched."

Laura nodded, took both menus, wiped the table down with her napkin, took the napkin and headed toward the door. John watched her leave before turning to the manager. "You will be reimbursed for everything we've taken, as well as payment for the drinks ordered and a tip for Ruby." John looked at the group of customers and workers staring at him in disbelief, and for no reason, felt a giant grin spreading over his face as he nodded at the closing front door that Laura had just run through. "I'd better go ketchup." He groaned internally as he scooped down to pick up his prop glasses and headed out the door, ketchup bottle and pistol still in hand.

XXX

"Noreen, hold my calls." Mayor Bagosian barked as he walked into his office.

"Yes sir, your honor." Noreen's voice barely got through before the mayor shut the door and headed straight to his desk, where he sat down and logged into his computer. His head shifted, once again verifying that the door he had just shut was still shut before clicking onto the internet.

"Keep it in your pants, your honor." A voice from the corner behind him announced in a hushed tone, and the mayor whirled around terrified. A lean, athletic form emerged from it, a demonic mask over its head. "We need to talk."

"Christ!" The mayor growled before relaxing. "There are better ways to collect your payment."

"True," the lean man in black body armor replied, "but renegotiation is best done in person."

"Renegotiation?" The mayor stood up. "Where's your boss? He's the one I made the deal with, not you!"

"Sit down your honor." The dark black and red form insisted calmly. "The Red Hood has no more interest in your money than I do."

The mayor stared at the lean frame skeptically. "If you don't care about money, than why are you working with me?"

The demonic mask looked over several books on the bookcase. "I said sit down, your honor." The mayor slowly slid back into his chair. "Good, I'm sure your legs are thanking you. You put a fair amount of strain on them, having to carry all that girth."

The mayor sneered. "It's a sign of success."

"No, it isn't." The young man replied indifferently. "One of the things that sets twenty-first century America apart from all other civilizations is that obesity is a greater indicator of poverty than of affluence. Not that you're poor, but laziness and gluttony, which are what your fat ass is attributable to, have been a major contributor to obesity in all cultures and time periods. Modern Americans are greater offenders than the other cultures, but you don't have a monopoly on those traits."

"Well that's just swell, thanks for the lesson." The annoyed mayor snapped.

"Just another reason I despise the culture your people have created here." The masked man answered.

"What are you talking about?" Bagosian snarled. "You're an American."

"When in the United States I speak English like an American Midwesterner. When in the United Kingdom, I speak like a Londoner. When in Quebec, I speak French like a Quebecer, when in France I speak French like a Parisian, when in Mexico I speak Spanish like a Mexican and when in…"

"Yeah yeah yeah, when in Spain you speak Spanish like a Spaniard." The mayor interrupted.

"Absolutely not!" The masked man snapped back. "Castillian sounds gay. I talk like a Mexican while in Spain."

"Fine, whatever. What do you want to renegotiate?" The mayor growled.

"You've been feeding us police intel regarding criminals Yindle doesn't have enough evidence against to arrest." The demon-masked intruder replied. "This has made my partner very happy, and our discreet eliminations of these elements has made your city much more presentable to the outside world. Your payments are more a formality, a way to somehow legitimize this and make it appear strictly business. Quite frankly, what you pay us is a pittance compared to what we lift off these doomed criminals, as well what you make off of various local businessmen for creating a safer Gotham. If anything, the resources that I have at my disposal make the accepting of your payments and the stealing from our dead victims seem despicable. So I'm here to make sure I get something out of this arrangement."

"This isn't your deal to renegotiate, kid!" The mayor snapped. "I left feelers for the Red Hood, not some punk in a devil mask that he's decided to take on as a sidekick."

"I'm nobody's sidekick!" The masked man snarled. "And I suggest hearing me out before pissing me off any further."

"Fine, get to the point and tell me what you want then." The mayor grumbled.

The devil-faced intruder walked over and took a seat in one of the two large chairs on the other side of the desk. "About an hour ago there was an incident involving two gunmen and a young do-gooder in a restaurant."

"Ah, was that you?" The mayor questioned.

"No, it was not. The news agencies are already speculating on who the boy is." The masked man replied as he crossed his legs and leaned back.

"Yeah, something about the boy being a soon to be boy wonder, right?" The mayor said with an annoyed smile.

"For once the press is correct, though they'll likely have to wait another two months or so before anyone sees this individual in the yellow cape." The man leaned forward. "Of course, I didn't just tell you that, so you're to play dumb. But you will openly embrace the speculation, as well as the boy. You will do everything in your power to make Robin feel welcome."

The mayor shrugged. "Should be easy enough, tourists have an even bigger hard-on for the kid than they do for the Bat. I'll just tout the tourism agenda like every mayor supporting the crime fighters before me."

"That also means keeping Yindel on a slightly tighter leash than usual."

"Now that's going to be the tricky part." Bagosian replied. "She ain't no Rohrbach, Yindel's by the book about everything, and the thing she wants to be remembered for is ridding Gotham of its reliance on vigilante justice. And having a juvenile out there ducking bullets and kicking scumbags in the balls will just set her off all the more. Really, the arguments I use to convince her to look the other way on Batman won't be worth jack shit once he starts endangering a child."

"That's an interesting problem that YOU have there, your honor." The masked man stated as he got back to his feet and started toward the window. "I suggest you come up with a solution for it. I will not accept anything that would keep Robin from taking to the streets once his training is complete."

"Oh, and what are you going to do about it if I don't do squat?" The angered mayor snapped as he too stood up.

The devil-faced young man stopped before climbing out the window. "What will I do? Well, I don't really know right now. There is so much that I can do, I suppose. Rest assured, I will not kill your wife or children over a matter such as this, and even killing you seems a bit extreme, but I will have no hesitation about wiping out your three Panamanian bank accounts, publicly exposing your multiple indiscretions with trannie prostitutes, or cutting pieces of you off of your body." The young man climbed out the window, but his head popped back in. "It would appear that we both have much to think about."

XXX

"Hmmm, home early I see." Dick commented from the family room adjacent to the foyer as his son walked through the front door. "That normally means that the date didn't go too well." John stepped into the room, his mind racing for a way to put the events that had just transpired into words. One look at his father let him know that it wasn't necessary. "Yeah, I know. It's all over the news."

John froze. "They don't know who I am, do they?"

"No," Dick arched an eyebrow at his son, "and yes. The boy, who witnesses estimate to have been between twelve and fifteen years of age, covered his face with ketchup and remains unidentified. John Grayson is safe. Of course, this being Gotham, speculation, and I mean strong speculation, is that Robin is finally back."

"Ughn." John groaned as he slumped into a chair adjacent to the couch his father was seated at and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm so dead."

"Was there any other option?" The father asked calmly.

John shrugged as he stared off into a wall mounted family portrait. "No, one seemed cool enough to just take the money and leave, but the other one was tweaking like crazy." He turned and peered intently into his father's eyes. "I swear he was going to blast into one of the patrons at any second."

"Well then you have nothing to worry about." Dick replied. "You concealed your identity, you took down the perps with non-lethal force, and most importantly, none of the patrons was so much as scratched."

"Yeah, but you're not Damian." John replied as he leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "You know how pissed he got when the press made everyone aware of this new Huntress, and now they've got Robin." John shook his head. "At least with Huntress, the Batman can claim to have nothing to do with her, but with Batman endangering a child, Yindel's going to have no problem whipping Gotham up into a bat-hunting frenzy."

"Yindel's not Gotham." Dick replied, and noted his son's disregarding of his statement. "I take it you didn't listen to the radio on the car ride home."

"I took the bus, I didn't want to implicate the family by having a Wayne Enterprises car pick me up a few blocks from a Robin sighting." The boy replied. "Why?"

Dick leaned forward, grabbed the remote control off of the coffee table and switched on the television set. A pretty young reporter was walking along a downtown sidewalk, dozens of people walking past her on the sidewalk and street, all wearing different combinations of red, green and yellow. "The mayor's impromptu call to gather at Robinson Park has led to thousands, perhaps as many as twenty thousand people converging on this location to celebrate what they see as the return of a Gotham icon."

The scene cut to a recording of an interview with a random woman in her fifties that had been filmed earlier in the day. The voice of the reporter that had been shown moments before was heard asking a question. "Why are you excited by the news that there may be a new Robin in training?"

"Because Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs Robin." The excited woman replied. "Batman's a violent man, doing a violent job. Robin's the only thing that's keeping him from going too far and killing people. And while some of these guys should be killed, it's his not killing them that keeps him from being hunted down in earnest. So yeah, I'm glad Robin's coming back."

The scene cut back to the live reporter, the shot wide out to encompass the throngs of people gathering in the park behind her. "The Boy Wonder, a staple of Gotham for nearly three decades, seems to be as popular now as he was when he first appeared in pixie boots,"

John snickered at the mention of the attire. "Shut it." Dick shot back in a faux-angry voice, the response just causing John to chuckle some more.

"a sentiment that Mayor Bagosian is confident can be translated into tourism dollars." The reporter continued. "Several minutes ago the mayor arrived in a SUV that was hauling a covered trailer. A great deal of attention has been devoted to what may be within the trailer, but Mayor Bagosian drove whatever it may be to the center of the park."

The reporter touched her ear, an indication that she was receiving word of something. "I'm now getting reports that the mayor has unveiled the contents of the trailer, a device of some sort, and appears ready to address the crowd." The reporter continued. "The device apparently resembles a large spot light, and there's currently growing excitement from within…" The reporter once again touched her ear. "We're cutting to the mayor now."

The shot on the television cut to a shot of the mayor, a heavy-set man in his fifties, standing perched upon a small stage with a large spotlight off to his side. "Thank you all for coming. Against the strong protestations of pretty much all my advisors, as well as my family and friends, I felt compelled to come here tonight. To come here and address the news from earlier today that a young boy anonymously thwarted a restaurant robbery, protecting all the patrons and subduing the armed gunmen, while going out of his way to protect his identity. This of course has led to speculation that Batman has once again found a young man to fight crime with him on our fair streets."

A cheer went out, one met by a groan from John. "I'm so fired."

"Now," the mayor continued, "I don't wish to convey the opinion that I encourage or condone vigilantism or the endangering of a child, and I sincerely hope that the speculation is incorrect, but if it is correct, far be it from me to fail to see the silver lining. Batman is huge for tourism, but Batman and Robin are nothing short of astounding for it. And right now, Gotham needs all the help it can get, both in terms of maintaining security, as well as attracting people to see this beautiful city that we all live in."

"He's kidding, right?" John asked.

Dick chuckled. "Gotham is not without its charms."

"So without further ado, I am going to assume that the speculation is correct, and welcome our newest protector." The mayor turned on his heel and marched over to the large spotlight, and threw a switch. A huge burst of red shot out from the light, and the camera shifted skyward to capture what would be projected.

"Daddy!" Sarah's voice was heard through the window several rooms away. "Come here, you have to see this!"

John shot up out of the chair to see what had gotten his sister so excited, while Dick just chuckled as he followed his son through the house and out onto their backyard deck. He looked down to see the still-swinging rings on the extra large playground set in the back yard where Sarah had been playing moments before, but then looked up at what his children were staring at in the sky. A blurred out red circle with a barely legible yellow 'R' reflecting against the evening sky wobbled over the occasional cloud. "What's that up there?" Dick asked, playing dumb for his little girl.

"It's the Robin signal, Daddy!" Sarah exclaimed.

"There's no Robin signal." John grumbled. "Or even a Robin for that matter."

"Yeah there is!" Sarah countered, looking at her brother. "He took out some thieves at a restaurant today!"

"I heard the news." John replied, giving his sister a half-smile. "It wasn't Robin, it was just some kid, or better yet, young looking man who was good with his hands."

"Nuh-uh!" Sarah snapped back. "He covered his face with ketchup, so he didn't want anyone to know who he was. He went flipping through the air like an acrobat, and took them out with some Kung-Fu. And lastly, he took the plates, utensils, menus and everything else that he and his date touched before leaving, promising to pay for them." The eight year old girl smiled. "Probably with unmarked, untraceable cash that's been wiped clean of fingerprints."

"Plates and utensils?" John questioned. "Who…"

"That's quite a rundown." Dick kidded his daughter as she trotted up stairs and onto the deck, interrupting John's question regarding the slight exaggeration. "You've been keeping up on this, huh?"

Sarah raised her cell phone, one with a screen that nearly covered one full side of it. "You may have grown up bouncing around place to place, but I'm Gotham born and bred, Daddy. Batman and Robin are my hometown team." Sarah nudged her brother. "Right Bro?"

John shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. Red Hood's enemies don't get to break out of jail or Arkham."

"What?" The surprised and annoyed girl snarled. "Red Hood is a punk who got run out of town by Bats."

"Is that what happened?" The two kids turned in surprise at the voice of Damian coming from behind them, and saw him standing next to their unsurprised father. "I tried knocking, but seeing the light show I decided to come on in. I hope you don't mind."

Dick gave his brother an odd look. "Mind? You have your own key and a bedroom here."

"True, but this seemed like a family moment." Damian replied, smiling down at the kids.

"It is, so I suppose it's good that we're brothers." Dick replied, a little suspicious of Damian's odd behavior.

"Yeaahhhh," Damian started saying, a slight smile on his face, but then his smile faded and he looked directly at Dick, "I need for John to come with me."

"Right, that extra credit John took upon himself to do for his internship." Dick replied, giving Damian a sharp look. "From what I've heard, he found himself in a tight spot, but followed every protocol to the letter."

Damian smiled at Dick. "There's no question about that. But the cat's out of the bag now, and some of the corporate officers want to meet him. There's even talk of him taking on a new project."

"What?" Dick arched one eyebrow and gave his brother a skeptical look. "Since when do you cater to the 'corporate officers'? And he's definitely not ready for any project coming from them."

Damian shrugged. "From what I hear, it shouldn't be a difficult one. Mostly P.R., and I'll be there to help."

"P.R.?" Dick asked confusedly.

"Looks like you guys need to work on your code, Daddy." Sarah grumbled, then peered directly at John, a look of hurt etched on her face, hurt stemming from the realization that she was the last outsider to the family secrets. The young girl turned and stared out toward the trees that lined the far end of the yard.

Damian looked down at her sadly for a moment before clasping John's shoulder and gently glided him back into the house. "Trust me, he'll be safe as, well, whatever can be considered safe these days."

"That's not very reassuring Damian!" Dick whispered after his brother and son as they walked quickly toward the front door to leave the house.

XXX

The night was quiet. Perhaps it was due to the expectation that Batman would be patrolling with his new partner. The Huntress looked out over the city from the rooftop of the Powers International Building and allowed herself a chuckle. For once the assumptions of the masses were correct, but they'd be waiting another two months before their Robin would pass the Gauntlet and be ready for duty. The smile faded away from Huntress's face. Johnny would be 'their' Robin, wouldn't he? She had wanted to be Robin since she was a little girl, out there fighting crime at Tim's side, and later Damian's.

Helena rolled her neck. She had almost been ready to be Tim's partner when he got hurt and Damian forced himself into the role. She had been looking forward to working with Tim, but the idea of going out with Damian on patrol seemed every bit as exciting. But then Damian seemed to shun the idea of her being Robin. At first she assumed that it was because she was a girl. Stephanie Brown had been Robin for barely a heartbeat before being fired, and Damian had certainly picked up a few ideas about women from his maternal grandfather, so it seemed reasonable that chauvinism was the culprit. But it was when she saw him watching Johnny doing a series of flips off the diving board a couple years ago that she seemed to realize why he wasn't picking her. Damian had always modeled himself off of their father, and followed in Bruce's footsteps whenever possible. She realized that that meant that his choice for his first Robin should be a nearly superhuman acrobat with the last name Grayson.

So be it, thought Helena. She didn't fit her brother's Robin mold, whether due to gender, age or last name. Fine, screw him. She had been born and bred to dispense justice and to protect the innocent, and that's just what she had chosen to do. If that meant operating outside the protective wings of the Bat, then that's how she would be doing it. She had been offered a legacy to continue, and she was embracing it with both arms.

"You've been getting credit for the work of others."

Helena spun around at the voice behind her, and looked upon a dark figure with a devil mask crouching down about fifteen yards away. He stood, standing a couple inches taller than her with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. "Who are you, and why shouldn't I beat the snot out of you?"

The red form casually walked toward her. "Your brother and I are the ones who have killed Michael Francotti, Gabriel Dunnings, Francisco Goran, David Horowitz and their associates. Yet you seem to be getting all the credit."

The Huntress was a little taken aback. "My brother?"

"Yes, your brother." A light chuckling could be heard coming from under the mask. "No, don't worry, I'm not referring to Batman, or Grayson, or Drake."

"Who?" Helena feigned confusion. "I mean, Batman I can get, what with my attire and all, but I'm not sure who those other guys are."

"Yes, continue the charade, but I watched you lay into that group of thugs trying to rape that homeless woman the other night," the demon-masked individual said, "as well as your ascent to the top of this building, and you're too good to be anything but a bat." He then chuckled. "Bertinelli is definitely not capable of having taught you what you know. But if you want to go on pretending that you are not Helena Wayne, then by all means, go on pretending."

The Huntress displayed a smile, keeping her fear and surprise from outwardly manifesting itself in any way. "You can call me whatever you want, but you still haven't told me why I shouldn't be beating the snot out of you."

"I haven't provided you with any reason not to because I believe that you should." The masked man replied. "Or at least you should try to."

Huntress lunged forward. She realized that it was inadvisable to attack someone unknown that was clearly capable, as his ability to get onto the roof and approach her without her knowledge all but confirmed. And she had heard her father and Dick drill into Damian numerous times that they did not get into fights just to show how tough they were. But this was different, though she was forced to acknowledge that there would be a huge degree of satisfaction to kick the crap out of this surprisingly annoying individual. This was someone who knew who they were. She needed to take him down, find out who he was and how he knew what he knew, and eliminate the potential threat he posed while doing what she could to mitigate the damage his knowledge of them could pose.

Her initial strikes were parried or dodged by the demonic young man, though just barely. "Very good! Bruce has taught you well!"

Helena pressed her attack, throwing a barrage of kicks and punches, but the lean young man blocked them as well as he backed away from her across the rooftop. "I have no idea who you're talking about." Helena grunted in between strikes.

"Was that…yes, I see Damian has been sharing some League of Assassin techniques with you." The demon laughed louder. Though attempting to convey the appearance of his defense being effortless, the young man was actually having a tremendous amount of difficulty keeping her strikes from connecting. His efforts finally came up short as Huntress's right palm slammed into his forehead, immediately followed by her sweeping out his legs with a kick. He hit the ground hard but instantly converted it into a roll away from the Huntress, his good humor immediately replaced by rage. He twisted his body on the ground and flung a wide kick at her, the intent not so much to strike as to force her back a couple of steps.

"Whoever this Damian is, he must have been teaching me pretty well, huh?" Huntress taunted as she watched the man spring back to his feet.

"I was a fool to joke around and take you lightly." The demon-faced man growled as he marched toward her. "Playtime has ended." The two exchanged strikes and kicks in a furious manner, Huntress immediately realized that this person was virtually as well trained and conditioned as she was, and being larger and male, had her on strength. But she fought on, confident that she would beat him, because the idea of losing to some clown in a devil mask was preposterous.

As minutes ticked by the Huntress found herself slowly being put on the defensive by this evenly skilled but stronger opponent, and something else was weighing on her. An eerie sense of familiarity was coming over her; it was almost as if she had sparred with this person before. His controlled breathing was beyond familiar, it was almost…comforting. Helena jumped back. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"I'm surprised it's taken you this long to ask." The man replied, his previously heavily altered voice now coming back with less alteration, and something the Huntress almost recognized. "You are free to address me however you wish."

"As tempting as assigning you the designation 'Horned Asshole' may be, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist upon your real name." Helena replied.

"You're just going to have to beat it out of me little girl." The masked man replied.

"No problem, Horned Asshole!" Huntress lunged back in, but was met by a blast of smoke emanating from her target's sleeve. Her disorientation left her momentarily vulnerable, and the unknown man took full advantage and landed a series of punches on her, punches with enough power to send her staggering back, dazed.

"FREEZE!" One of three security guards yelled out as they barreled through the door and onto the roof, tasers drawn and pointed at the man.

"Put your hands up!" The second guard ordered, directing his weapon at the male. The demonic mask turned and glared at him. "Yeah you Jersey Devil, get your hands in the air!"

"Cover the Huntress, Dan." The first guard directed the last one to come out.

"No Dan, cover me." The Jersey Devil contradicted. "All of you should be covering me." The Devil then lunged at them, dodging to the left to avoid the shot from the first guard's taser, then twisting the other way to avoid a second shot from another guard. The Devil laid out the first guard with a right cross, grabbed the arm of the second guard and twisted his body into the hesitant third guard, knocking them all to the ground. The Devil then snap-kicked the weapon from the downed third guard and raised his boot to stomp the man's skull.

"NO!" A black, white and red form yelled as it swung up over the side of the building and onto the rooftop. The Red Hood marched toward the Jersey Devil. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Whatever the hell I want to do!" The Devil replied.

"These aren't scumbags, they're just guys doing their jobs!" The Red Hood snarled back. "We kill who deserve killing, and only those that deserve killing!"

"I agree, and these assholes deserve killing!" The Devil spat back. "They interrupted my fight with the Huntress!"

The larger Red Hood grabbed the younger man by the arm and yanked him away from the three guards. "Not a killable offense, I'm afraid." The Hood then looked down at the guards. "You're outmatched, go call the cops and wait for them, or stay here and have bones broken." The three guards slowly looked at one another and nodded, carefully lifting back to their feet and quickly heading through the door.

The Jersey Devil watched them leave and then turned back to the Red Hood. "Well done, that leaves me with at least a few minutes to finish off the Huntress." He turned toward the glaring young woman in a fighting stance, blood gently leaking over her bottom lip and though covered by her mask, a large bruise was forming under her left eye.

"No we're leaving." Red Hood countered.

"We're partners, I do not answer to you!" The Devil growled angrily.

"What, you're going to kill her?" Red Hood chuckled. He then leaned in and whispered ominously. "She's your big sister, she's off limits."

"She's out here in a costume, she's no longer a civilian." The Devil growled back, then continued in a quieter tone. "And she's no more my sister than you are my brother."

Red Hook shrugged. "I know the official story, but if you'd spent any time in Wayne Manor, seen the portraits of your ancestors, seen your father's face on a daily basis, you'd note that her resemblance to a Wayne is way too close to be coincidental."

"How could you?" The two men turned to see the young woman glaring at the Red Hood. She had not heard what they were discussing, but it was clear that they were partners. "What else have you been telling your friend?"

The Hood only stared back for a moment before finally replying. "I haven't told him anything he didn't already know."

"Bullshit!" Helena growled, raising her hand and pointing at him. "I wanted to believe you were redeemable, but now I see that you're not."

"Shut up girl." The Devil snapped. "He may very well have just saved your life, or at the very least" the Devil walked over to where they had been fighting, pulled out a small bit of cloth, bent over and dabbed at a drop of Helena's blood that had fallen during the fight, "he may have pointed out a reason for me to offer you an alternative to dying by my hand."

"Who the hell is he?" Helena barked at Jason.

"Haven't you been listening?" The demonic man replied as he walked to the edge of the roof, police sirens approaching. "I'm the Jersey Devil." He leapt off.

Helena turned her head away from the departed enemy and back toward the Red Hood. "I always wanted you back in the family. I always referred to you as my brother." The Huntress turned and marched to another side of the building to make her getaway. "Never again."

Jason watched his sister jump out into the night. He always mocked the sentimentality of his estranged family, he frequently used it against them, but when all was said and done, it genuinely pained him to hurt them as he did, even when he was plotting their downfall.

XXX

"Why am I wearing this?" John asked, prodding the red fabric tightly covering the body armor on his chest.

"It's a way to conceal your identity." Batman replied as he stepped into the transporter.

"There are other ways to conceal my identity than the Robin costume." John replied, looking closely at the adhesive-coated back of the stylized domino mask before finally affixing it to his face as he stepped next to Batman.

"Well you're certainly not ready to be wearing the Batsuit." Batman replied.

"I'm not ready to be wearing this one either." John answered.

"True, but for what we need you to do, this seems to be the only appropriate outfit." Batman answered.

John nodded. "So I'm not Robin, but I'm wearing the Robin outfit and I'm to go by the Robin moniker?"

"Yes."

"Are you two done yammering?" Tim asked from a control panel.

"Send us, Drake." Batman replied.

A bright light washed over the two of them, and a moment later they were in a large, empty room filled with equipment that John had difficulty identifying. A split second later two blue forms were standing before them, apparently appearing from nowhere, both teenage humans with similar costumes and exposed dark hair, but one male and one female. "Oh, hello Batman. The others have been expecting you."

"Haste, Velocity!" Robin muttered in awe, but quickly regained his composure and calmed his voice. "It's…it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise Robin." Haste, the male replied.

Velocity walked forward toward the newly arrived John. "I've got one question for you Robin." She stopped directly in front of him on the transporter pad and leaned in close so that her lips were next to his ear. "Who's your favorite babysitter?" She whispered playfully before giving him a peck on the cheek at super human speed and disappearing, reappearing next to Haste instantly.

Robin's eyes spread wide. "Iris?"

Velocity nudge her brother, who was giving her a disapproving look. "Told 'ya I was his favorite."

Robin then turned and looked at Haste. "Jai?"

"I'm not sure your father would approve of you so cavalierly revealing your identities." Batman muttered as he stepped off the transporter.

"He's Dick's son." Arsenal called out as he walked into the room. "Wally probably has these two in the doghouse for not letting John in on it sooner." The forty-one year old crime fighter jerked his bionic thumb back in the direction he had just come. "Kal and the others are waiting for you. I'll keep the kid company since the blue bolts have training to get back to."

"Oh, come on Roy!" Both Iris and Jai complained.

"Now." Arsenal grumbled back as he passed Batman and continued toward Robin. The two blue speedsters disappeared, leaving Arsenal too look over the newest Robin. "A little taller, lighter hair, and a much better outfit, but damn, you look so much like he did when he first started."

"My Dad?"

Arsenal nodded. "The greatest sidekick of all time. The example we all strove to be like." The man turned away sadly. "Maybe you'll be the first to reach that bar he set for the rest of us."

"Well, I'm not even at the point of being a bona fide sidekick yet." John muttered as he took a few steps toward the man. "Not even sure what I'm doing here in this getup. I'm still a ways off from being ready, worthy, whatever."

Arsenal pulled the boy in next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and walking him toward the hallway. "You may not yet be ready, but you're definitely worthy. You're Dick and Bab's kid, how could you not be worthy?" Roy smiled down at the pre-teen.

John smiled back as they entered the hallway and looked out one of the many viewports lining the other wall at the blackness of space outside. "So this is the Watchtower?"

"Yep," Arsenal replied, "Watchtower four point oh."

"So what are Batman and I supposed to be doing?" Robin asked. "He didn't really divulge anything to me."

Arsenal exhaled a barely audible grumble before answering the boy. "They're sending you to Themyscira in hopes that you'll be able to get them to approach the Atlanteans on our behalf."

"What?" John looked up at one of his many 'uncles' in confusion. "Why would they send us? Damian's probably the least diplomatic member of the Justice League and was still a kid when Themyscira severed ties to the outside world."

"We need an in, and you're right, Damian's not it." Roy looked down and winked at the boy.

Robin peered even more confusedly at Arsenal. "Me? What are you guys expecting me to do?"

"Ask to meet your Godmother." Arsenal replied.

Robin was a little startled by the statement, and thought silently for a moment. "So Donna Troy is an Amazon?" John chuckled. "That would explain why I've never met her."

"Well, you met her," Roy chuckled, "I guess that photographic memory of yours doesn't go all the way back to infancy, huh?"

"Everything has its limits." John replied. "But really, you think me asking to talk to Donna is going to open the way to reconciliation with the Amazons?"

"Yeah, a bit of a stretch, but we're desperate." Arsenal muttered. "We're all but certain that the Atlanteans are going to declare war on the surface world in a matter of weeks, if not days."

"What's the bug up Zarin's ass?" John asked.

"Not sure." Arsenal replied. "I mean, yeah, there's always been that right wing fringe element down there that's wanted to wage war against us or drown us with some super-weapon for our polluting, overfishing, and so on, but it's usually been kept in check. Arthur had to save us from it a few times, but he's gone now, and the latest anti-surface zealot has finally gotten to the point where he can make their dreams of war come true."

"And apparently the Amazons have enough clout with these psychos to keep such dreams at bay?" John questioned. "Even if Damian and I could get an audience with Diana, and even if the miracle of reopening lines of communication with them could be achieved, and even if we could then sway them to speak to Atlantis on our behalf, what indication have we gotten that Zarin and his band of thugs will care what she has to say? Sure Atlantis and Themyscira have strong ties, and I'm sure Queen Diana will be welcomed and treated regally, but ultimately, what little I know of General Zarin, well, King Zarin now, tells me he won't deviate from whatever path he's set for himself for any reason."

"You're likely correct, Robin," Batman announced as he turned the corner from another hallway and headed toward them, "but we must try."

"So what's the deal?" Arsenal asked the approaching Batman.

"Robin and I will board a Javelin and head to Themyscira now." Batman replied as he continued marching past his partner and the other League member.

Arsenal gave Robin a wry grin. "Enjoy your trip."

XXX

"I don't like this Bruce." Dick announced as he made his way down the steps and into the Batcave. "He's not ready to be out there, especially for something like this. It'd be one thing if Damian was taking him on a drug bust or something, we've been training him for that, but to take him on what could be seen as an invasion to a nation of super-powered Amazons that hate us; that's insane! I don't know what he was thinking when he came up with it."

"It was my idea." Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the vast computer screen in front of him.

"What?" Dick questioned incredulously as he stopped next to his adoptive father. "Would you please explain that to me?"

Bruce turned an looked up at Dick from his seat. "He's taken the vow, he will be Robin, his training has proceeded to the point where I believe he's as prepared for anything he'll likely face as he needs to be," Bruce turned away, "and he's the only one that has a chance of pulling this off."

"Why? Because he's Donna's Godchild?" Dick questioned disbelievingly. "He was an infant the last time she saw him. And it's not like she, or even Diana, exercise enough power to sway the vast majority of the Amazons. It took every ounce of influence over the Amazons they had not to continue with their retaliation twelve years ago! Donna having a Godchild isn't going to get them to forget what happened and go to bat for us with the Atlanteans!"

Bruce looked back up. "It's our only play, Dick. We've got to take it."

"Why? We've dealt with Atlantean despots before."

Bruce peered up at Dick before exhaling. "Not like this. Zarin is going to wage war with the surface, and the little intelligence that we've been able to get indicates that he is capable of creating multiple seismic events that will wipe out most coastal cities with tidal waves, potentially killing tens of millions."

"So we stop him, just like we've stopped countless other threats!" Dick grumbled.

"That's what we're trying to do." Bruce replied.

"You're telling me that our best option is a Robin in training playing upon one Amazon's sentimentality?" Dick muttered.

A hardness came to Bruce's voice. "Zarin has the support of the Atlanteans because waging war against us is reasonable and justified in their minds. But if the Amazons approach them on our behalf, at the very least the majority of those Atlanteans will expect Zarin to delay his attack. When he refuses to at least alter his time table, the support of those Atlanteans may no longer be so assured."

"I get the strategy, I just fail to see how it's the best one we have." Dick replied.

Bruce shrugged. "You suggest the Justice League go down there and employ some insistent negotiations, is that it?" The older man noted the younger man's nod. "You realize that any attempt for us to go to Atlantis will be met with military retaliation."

"Fine, we can take it." Dick grumbled.

"No, I don't think we can." Bruce replied. "The aforementioned paltry intelligence we have on Zarin's regime has let us know that in addition to the seismic weapons at his disposal, he also has enough Kryptonite to keep Clark, Kara, Karen and Connor effectively neutralized, as well as what appears to be knowledge of the rest of the team and how best to handle us."

Dick was stunned. "How did he come by all of that?" He noted Bruce's anticipatory stare and began trying to figure it out for himself. A moment later he growled. "Son of a bitch, Ras."

"That's my guess as well." Bruce replied.

"Get Zarin to wipe us out and grind the planet into a pre-Industrial Revolution existence, something both Al Ghul and Atlantis has always wanted." Dick continued grumbling. "But that still…" Dick stopped talking as he caught sight of Helena Bertinelli escorting an injured Helena Wayne down the stairs, the younger dressed in a variation of the older Helena's Huntress costume. "Helena, are you OK?" Dick ran toward the two women, with Bruce immediately following him.

"I'm fine!" Helena snapped. "I had a run in with Jason and his newest partner, and Helena insisted that we get you guys in the loop."

"Jason attacked you?" Bruce roared the question, rage flaring out of his eyes.

"No, it was the other guy. One of the security guards called him the Jersey Devil, and I heard the news guy on the radio use the name so it'll probably stick, which is unfortunate. The name I gave him was much better." Helena answered. "Jason didn't show up until later, and actually reigned the guy in."

"Tell us about this Jersey Devil." Tim asked, having apparently appeared from nowhere.

"About five-nine or five-ten, completely solid one-sixty, definitely trained by the League of Assassins. Body armor on par with ours, a devil mask, and while not super human, he was really, really fast. Easily on par with any of us." Helena displayed a look of doubt and confusion. "And…well, there may have been, never mind."

"What?" Bruce insisted.

"I think he was a teenager, like around my age, maybe even younger." Helena replied. "And…he seemed familiar."

"Familiar how?" Dick pressed.

"Like…" Helena looked down, "like I was sparring with Damian."

Bruce, Tim and Dick all shared a look. Tim peered at Dick. "Damian's big justification for when he started refusing to work with me was that Robin had become taller than Batman. He was fifteen at the time."

Dick nodded. "That would be about the right age."

Both Helenas watched the exchange between the men in utter confusion. "What are you guys talking about?" The sixteen year old asked.

"Have a seat Helena." Bruce suggested as he directed his daughter to a chair.

XXX

The javelin cut through the clouds, the rising sun behind it, and set out toward a rocky beach on a seemingly deserted portion of Themyscira. "Justice League javelin, turn back now or you will be assaulted." The female voice came through the speaker.

"This is Batman. I am here to see Queen Diana on official business." Batman replied. "I am with my partner Robin."

"Queen Diana's business with the Justice League ended years ago, and your mention of a child being on board will not keep us from destroying you." A commotion could be heard in the background.

"Please sister, allow me to attend to this." Another female voice could be heard saying in the background. A moment later that voice was coming through clearly. "State your name, Batman."

"That is something I choose not to divulge." Batman replied, slightly confused.

"I am now alone in this room, and I know that the original Batman was Bruce Wayne, and the only other one that I was aware of was Dick Grayson." The woman replied.

"Identify yourself." Batman growled.

There was a pause before the response came. "My name is Kleandra, a feminized version of the name of a famous Greek Commander of Archers. Now it's your turn, Batman."

"The Justice League had a fairly extensive list of Amazons at the time of our last contact, and the list of those that knew the identities of League members was much shorter." Batman replied. "Your name appeared on neither list. I know nothing about you."

"None the less, any chance you have of landing your plane on this island rests in your willingness to identify yourself." The woman replied.

Batman paused a moment. "My name is Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne."

"Oh," the woman sounded almost disappointed, "I was hoping that you were Dick. Please turn back and leave Themysciran air space."

"What is you knowledge of Richard Grayson?" Batman growled. "Are you a friend of Donna Troy, did you meet Dick through her?"

"Turn back and leave Themyscrian air space." Kleandra growled back.

"We are landing. Our presence here is entirely peaceful, as I am sure you have no doubt of, but attack anyway if that's what you feel best." Batman replied as he directed the javelin down toward the beach.

"You've been warned, prepare to be engaged!" Kleandra snapped.

"No, wait!" Robin called into speaker. "In addition to our desired meeting with Queen Diana, I was hoping to meet my Godmother, Donna Troy."

"Your Go…, who is this?" The angered and confused Amazon barked.

"My name is John Grayson," Robin came back, "and apparently you know my father."

There was a long pause before the Amazon's voice came back through the speaker. "Land on the beach, exit the craft, and wait for your escorts!"

Batman gave his partner a sideways glance and displayed a subdued smile. "Understood."

X

Batman and Robin exited the javelin, stepped out onto the beach and remained motionless. A moment later a series of arrows, each arriving a fraction of a second behind the previous flew out toward Batman, grazing the outsides of his uniform and cowl, bouncing off of the javelin and falling to the sand below. Batman did not flinch at all, but noted the distance of the archer and was suitably impressed. "As good as Queen." The archer, who was far enough so that John could only make out that she was a woman with long dark hair, came running toward them. As she got closer John was able to make out that she appeared to be in her late teens or very early twenties, was of mixed Caucasian and Asian ancestry, five foot eight and in excellent shape, stunningly beautiful, and for a reason John could not determine, strangely familiar. "Showing off for the kid?" Batman asked as she drew near, six other Amazons running toward them in the distance.

"Making you aware that your continued existence is entirely in our hands," Kleandra replied, "and seeing if you're composed enough to be worthy of the costume."

"And…" Batman asked with a grin.

"Jury's still out." Kleandra turned away from Batman and looked over at Robin, noting a surprised look on his face. "Something wrong, Boy Wonder?"

"No, maam, it's just that I wouldn't have expected an Amazon to use a phrase like 'the jury's still out'." John replied. "It seems out of place for a Themysciran."

"Princess Kleandra," one of the arriving Amazons, in full battle armor and armed with swords and spears, called out, "you should not approach these men without escort."

"Queen Diana would not approve of this, or of you allowing them to land on our island." Another said.

"Princess?" Batman asked, a bit of confusion in his voice.

"That is not your business, Batman." Kleandra hissed at the large man before turning toward the soldiers. "This child is the Godchild of Princess Donna. I do not think shooting them down would have been an appropriate response."

A third Amazon looked over the two uninvited guests with disdain. "We should bring them before Diana."

XXX

"Yup, his favorite hush-hush Panamanian account has grown by seventy-five thousand dollars in the last eight weeks." Tim announced. "I can say with confidence that Mayor Bagosian's pressure to keep the gangland killings under-scrutinized was definitely bought and paid for. I've got no proof, but chances are he's the one that got Jason to come back to town."

"Alright, that explains Jason, but what's the incentive for the League of Assassins?" Dick asked.

"It's training." Bruce replied. "Ras and Talia can teach the child a great deal about us, but there's definitely something to be said for having a tutor who was one of us."

"So he wants to take us down?" Helena asked.

"Very likely. Regardless of whether Damian returns today, I'm going out tonight." Bruce replied, then glanced over to Dick. "How are the knees?"

"Been taking my glucosamine, and will inject a couple millimeter's worth of temporary cartilage." Dick replied. "They'll hate me in the morning, but they're definitely good for tonight."

"Don't worry, they feel a lot better when you get to be my age." Bruce replied in a deadpan fashion.

Dick smiled broadly. "I think I liked it better when you didn't have a sense of humor."

XXX

"Please remove your masks." Queen Diana of Themyscira asked Batman and Robin as they stood before her seated on her throne. Twelve years had passed since any man had seen her, but she still looked completely unchanged, her appearance was that of a twenty-seven year old woman, an age she'd long since eclipsed even before the Amazons had resumed their policy of isolationism. John looked up at Damian, but at seeing Damian comply and pull off his cowl, John followed suit with his stylized domino mask, wincing slightly as the spirit gum pulled at his skin. "It is good to see you again, Damian, you have grown into a stunning man. You are definitely your father's son." Diana then looked over at John and smiled. "As are you, John Grayson. Your father was a beauty, and you are no less."

"Thank you your highness." John bowed.

"Tell me Damian, why have you come here?" Diana asked, almost glaring at Batman.

"To offer our apology, once again, for the attack on your island, to request a resumption of open dialogue between our peoples, and to request your aid on a matter." Damian replied.

"What matter?" Diana cut right to it.

Damian nodded. "Atlantis has just come out of a military coup with a new leader, one intent upon declaring war on the surface world."

"And you mean for us to intervene on your behalf?" Diana asked almost amusedly. "Quite frankly, Damian, we're more inclined to offer them assistance. It was not all that long ago that we were on the cusp of declaring war on your world ourselves."

"I recognize that, your Highness," Damian replied, "but you must recognize that the actions perpetrated against you were done by fringe elements within our world, and can not be seen as being representative of us all. That, and the likelihood of the Atlanteans utilizing weaponry against us that will cause a substantial rise in the levels of the oceans. Not even your enchanted land would be immune from that."

"Then perhaps we should inform the Atlanteans to utilize other weapons, and make sure that they are very accurate with the targets of their tsunamis." Diana snapped back. "You may or may not be deserving of your fate with the Atlanteans, but it is not the concern of Themyscira."

"I see. You have changed much since last I saw you, Wonder Woman." Damian all but hissed.

"You have not, Damian." Diana came back. "You have met with me and said what you came here to say. Leave now."

"Your Highness," John bowed and stepped forward, "I do not have the right, but I have an additional request to make of you." He hesitantly looked up. "If you'll hear it."

Diana chuckled lightly. "Once again, Grayson charm and humility is used in an attempt to defuse a situation created by Wayne arrogance. Fine, go ahead an ask."

"I wish to meet Donna Troy, my Godmother." John said humbly.

"Yes, I know you would." Diana replied sadly. "And I would love nothing more than to grant you that. But unfortunately Donna is no longer with us."

John looked up, his eyes wide with surprise and sadness. "She's dead?"

Diana looked away, her mind a flurry of how best to explain the situation to the child. "No, but she is no longer in the world of the living."

"Please explain." John requested.

The Amazon queen looked down on the boy, her initial intent not to offer the requested explanation, but upon gazing at his saddened and confused face, she relented. "Shortly after we cutoff contact with the outside world, Donna felt the need…" Diana looked over to Kleandra, who's gaze was on the ground and her body extremely tense, before looking back at John and Damian to continue, "she sought out Hades and made a pact. One where she would live with and serve him. He boasted that any attempt to escape, or any attempt on our part to rescue her would be futile." An angry look came over her face. "A boast that thus far has been merit-worthy."

"Why would she do such a thing?" John asked.

Diana looked down sadly, then once again over at Kleandra. "Her reasons were selfless and pure. A gift of absolute love."

"I don't…" John started.

"You're not meant to understand, young man." Diana interrupted.

"There must be a way to free her." Damian insisted.

Diana glared at him. "Why do you care?"

Damian met the glare uncowed. "She's League. We take care of our own, political ramifications be damned."

Diana continued glaring at the bold young man. "Good answer, Damian, one that your father would give. But I have spent almost twelve years trying to get her free of Hades' grasp, each invasion has been repelled, each attempt to gain entrance through stealth has been blocked. I have not given up," the Queen hissed, "but I have yet to be successful. Hades made it clear that no one on what he referred to as 'The Rolls of Fate' could gain entrance to his inner sanctum without him knowing. And once he is aware of our presence, he is too powerful to fight; at least by any means we've attempted to fight him with."

"If you do get her out, does that mean he would not try to reclaim her?" John asked.

"Yes, I believe so, but getting her out has proven to be a…most difficult task." Diana stated sadly, but with an unyielding determination in both her voice and face.

"Explain this 'Rolls of Fate'." Damian demanded.

Diana was a little put off by the abruptness of the question, but answered none the less. "He failed to elaborate, but I believe that it means those with a future."

"Are you able to summon the Hecateae?" Damian immediately asked.

Diana's eyes widened, but she quickly resumed her hard stare. "We have contacted The Fates before, but they have been of no help to us. If we contact them again, we had better have a good reason to do so."

Damian placed his hand on John's shoulder. "I believe that I have something that qualifies. Summon them."

Diana continued to stare at Damian for a few moments more before turning to one of the dozens of Amazons behind her, a blond woman who appeared decades older than the other Amazons. "Paula, please do as he asks."

Damian stared at the woman. "That is the Baroness Von Gunther, is it not?"

Diana delivered a sharp stare. "She is an expert in the mystic arts, and has become quite adept at summoning the Fates over the years. The evil done in her body was attributable to an invading demon." Diana turned and watched as the Amazons cleared away from Paula Von Gunther while the woman began chanting and placing honey and other offerings from her pouch onto the ground. After a few minutes a dark cloud began forming in front of the woman, and swirled about. Several moments later three women emerged from it and the cloud dispersed.

The women, one a young woman in her late teens, another middle aged and the third quite elderly, all glared disapprovingly at the former Nazi turned Amazon. "Why have you summoned us yet again, Amazon?"

Damian stepped forward, pulling John along with him. "I requested that you be summoned." He then thrust John forward. "Tell me of this boy's fate."

The agitated women focused on the child, but were soon confused. "He…he has no fate." The young woman answered.

"He should not exist." The middle age woman continued.

"And yet he is here." The elderly woman finished. "How can it be that we are unaware of this child?"

"Is it possible that this boy can enter Tartarus without Hades being aware of it?" Damian pressed.

"Yes." The elder woman replied.

"Though the god of the underworld will still be able to see him with his eyes, hear him with his ears, and smell him with his nose, as will his subjects," the young woman elaborated, "so a journey even for one unrecognized by fate would be treacherous and all but certainly fatal."

"Understood." Damian replied, pulling John back away from the fascinated witches. "I am most appreciative for this confirmation." Damian then turned to Baroness Von Gunther and nodded for her to dismiss the Fates before turning back to Diana.

Diana stared from Damian to John. "I don't understand."

Damian nodded. "Several years ago, while serving as Robin under Richard, I studied several Justice League reports and came across one where the Green Lantern Kyle Raynor claimed to have been confronted by a Monitor, who said that he should have been killed in the then-recent multi-versal crisis. I mentioned it to Dick, who went silent for a few moments and then mentioned that he had heard a similar message in his head at about that time. This would have been years before John's conception, and if Dick was destined to have been dead, then John's existence was never fated." Damian shrugged. "It was really just a wild guess, but it seems to have panned out."

"But I will not send a child into Tartarus." Diana replied.

"You have to!" John protested. "It's the only way to get Donna out. And I'm not just some random child pulled off the street; I'm Robin. You'd be hard pressed to find more than a dozen adults who've undergone the level of training that I've had."

"None the less, I will not be sending a child down into Hell." Diana replied firmly.

"Queen Diana," Kleandra called out, "I believe that you went to great lengths to make this a Democracy." She stepped forward, apologetically lowering her head. "I move that we vote on whether to allow John Grayson to attempt this."

XXX

The young man stepped out of his car and hurried around to the passenger side, where his pregnant wife had already opened the door. She was only four months along, and easily able to get out, but none the less the bespecled and mustached twenty six year old man was dead set on pampering his wife to the fullest, and extended his hand to help her out. Devlin watched all of this taking place through a pair of small binoculars from atop a building across the street from the hospital parking garage.

"This is what you ran off to see?" The voice of the Red Hood broke Devlin from his observations of the young couple, and the boy lowered his devil mask back into place before turning to look up at his partner. Red Hood raised a pair of binoculars to see what had captured his partner's attention. "What's so special about those two that you felt the need to…wait a minute, is that…that's the chick you did in my apartment! Mary, right?"

The Jersey Devil stood and started walking away, putting his binoculars back into its proper compartment on his belt. "We've got a job to do."

"Well congrats, kid, looks like you got what you were after." Jason chuckled. "You knocked her up and let the poor chump think it's his."

"It very well might be his." Devlin snapped back.

"I don't know;" Jason turned and followed after the boy, "you were dead certain she was ovulating, and brides to be often give their fiancés the big 'no' for several weeks prior to the wedding. Not sure why, it's not like their hymen is going to grow back, but most do that anyway." Jason noted the boy walking away faster and refusing to make any sort of reply. The Red Hood caught up and placed his hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Look, I get it. You did something spur of the moment, dismissed the guy because at the time he was a nameless, faceless nobody, but now you've been confronted by the fact that he's a real person, and from the looks of it, a decent real person. That feeling coursing through you right now is something you inherited from your father; it's called guilt, and his DNA is probably packed with enough of it to offset the sociopathic traits you inherited from your mother, making you probably normal in the guilt category."

"Are you done being paternal, Todd?" The Jersey Devil growled out as he shrugged Jason's hand off his shoulder. "It does not suit you, and I do not require it." The boy then turned and glared at the older and somewhat taller man. "And for the record, you are wrong. Neither my mother nor my grandfather are sociopaths. Ruthless, yes, but they can be quite compassionate. And your assertion that I feel guilty about possibly impregnating that woman and leaving a child of mine for that stranger to raise; you're wrong about that as well. Having seen him does not change the fact that he is still a nobody. Now, I apologize for the delay, let's get to business."

The Red Hood shrugged and waved his hand for Jersey Devil to lead the way. The two traversed the rooftops for several blocks before stopping to look down through the windows of a warehouse where what appeared to be a large scale drug deal was taking place. The two scanned the situation and Red Hood leaned in toward his partner. "Looks to be simple enough. Twelve of one crew, ten of the other, and from the looks of it only the four goons guarding the front and two guarding the back. This game is a lot easier now than when I worked with your dad; not being able to use lethal force really raises the difficulty level."

"A pointless self-handicap." Devlin replied absently.

"You seemed quite happy when you heard this buy had been moved forward to tonight, almost as though you had plans for tomorrow." Jason muttered as he too studied the environment.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I'm hoping to make a friend. Someone closer to my age." Devlin replied.

"A play date?" Jason chuckled. "You murder criminals, would be willing to murder non-criminals, and have a habit of breeding other guy's fiancés, and now you're telling me you want a friend for some wholesome, all American fun?"

"Relax, I haven't gone soft, I do have an ulterior motive." Deviln replied. "And Paxton is anything but wholesome."

"Paxton?" The Red Hood asked.

"It truly is none of your business." The Jersey Devil replied. "The sun is due to come up in a few hours, let's get to work."

"The police will handle work tonight." The gravelly voice came from behind them.

"They're on their way now." A less ominous voice came from off to the side. The Hood and Devil turned and saw Batman and Nightwing staring at them. "Our sister will be fine, but I don't think that fact will keep Bruce from beating the hell out of the two of you."

"Oh spare me your threats, circus boy." The Jersey Devil barked at Nightwing but stepped toward Batman and addressed him. "Tell our father that his time is nearly at an end. That his empire will soon be passed on to his youngest, most worthy child, and that that empire will become an extension of the League of Assassins, our most potent weapon for setting the planet right once again."

"You just told him kid." Red Hood stated as he took a step forward and stared at his former mentor. "Hello Bruce."

The Jersey Devil shuddered involuntarily. He had imagined meeting his father for the first time repeatedly throughout his entire life, but each fantasy had involved him being assertive and in a position where he was in control. Unfortunately, his first true encounter with his father had him caught unsuspecting and then had him confuse Bruce for his brother. The boy straightened up and put on a defiant air to try and regain his composure. "Greetings father, I had thought you had given up the cape."

"Having my daughter assaulted prodded me out of retirement." Batman growled.

"In all fairness, I was not aware that she was truly your daughter until scanning some blood test results a few hours ago." Devlin replied. "Though I really doubt I'd have held back any. Of course now, knowing what I know, I'm grateful that Todd kept me from killing her. She's entitled to an opportunity to join me. I doubt mother would approve, but I was given authorization to run this operation as I see fit."

"Look, kid, you may want to tone it down a little." Nightwing suggested, a wry smile on his face. "Batman's got a hankerin' for some spankerin' tonight, and you're saying all the right things to set him off."

"Your desire for your kin to join you goes both ways." Batman replied, almost contrary to Nightwing's warning. "You are genetically identical to Damian. I would guess that the first nine years of your upbringing didn't differ from his significantly. While you're undoubtedly smarter now than you were then, you still would have been extremely competent at that age, at least if you truly are like your brother, because even at that tender age Damian was a genius. He was impulsive but an excellent judge of character as well as a master of situational awareness. And once he was able to get a fair understanding of who and what we were, he chose us."

"You don't need to choose now," Dick continued, "the offer will remain on the table likely indefinitely, but unless it's your opinion that Damian's an idiot, it may be worth your while to at least look into who we are beyond the propaganda that the League has been feeding you."

The Jersey Devil looked from one hero to the other, cocked his head and chuckled. "Wow, how sappy. You two were the most prominent men to ever be called The Batman, and you resort to this sentimental outstretched hand rubbish? You should be scaring me senseless, making me fear for my life! I just kicked the shit out of your daughter, you should be mopping this rooftop with me, Wayne!"

"Your partner will tell you that we usually extend offers for redemption before resorting to what you just suggested." Nightwing replied seriously, but with a slight hint of mirth in his voice. "And from what I heard, you didn't walk away from Huntress completely unscathed."

The Jersey Devil chuckled. "Yes, she's a world class athlete who's been exceptionally trained. But she's still a woman, and there isn't a baseline human woman on the planet that can defeat me."

"Good thing for you Cass isn't here to have heard you say that." Nightwing chuckled back.

Devlin looked over at Nightwing and stared intently. "If that would prompt her to violence, then I wonder how hearing that I killed her mother six months ago would go over." He then looked over to Batman, who was hiding how startled he was by the comment very well. "Granted, she was a bit long in the tooth and worn away by countless battles, but she was still arguably the most formidable unarmed mortal woman on the planet, and I crushed her skull with my palm."

"Well, young man," Batman growled, "you should have no problem with me then. I'm every bit as long in the tooth and battle weary as Shiva was."

The Jersey Devil just peered at his father. "You're a man, and while at fifty-five you're a long way from your prime, you are still one of the finest physical specimens our species has ever produced. And your training and skills are beyond all but the tiniest handful of others to have ever lived; on par with Shiva's, who I must admit was beyond me in that regard, but, as mentioned, I was just too fast and strong for her skills to overcome. But that's not the case when I face you. Even old and worn, you are too powerful and knowledgeable for me to defeat in physical combat at this time." The teenager then clapped his hands twice. "Which is why I made certain preparations."

From the shadows of the buildings surrounding them, numerous wraith-like entities emerged and set out flying toward the group on the rooftop. A moment later they were spitting forth a barrage of bullets down toward Batman and Nightwing. "What the hell are you doing?" Red Hood grabbed the Jersey Devil by the arm and growled at him. "All I wanted to do tonight was to kill them," he pointed down at the building next to them where the occupants were coming out, alerted by the gunfire and preparing their departure, "not them!" He then pointed to Batman and Nightwing, utilizing amazing acrobatics to evade the gunfire directed at them.

"Unhand me!" The Devil snarled over the sounds of approaching sirens as he pulled his arm free. "I've followed you, aided you, and adopted your mission for months, hoping to glean some insight regarding my father and his clan from you, which has proven to be a major disappointment on that front. My patience came to an end, and with the actions in Atlantis reaching fruition, I decided it was time to engage my father and deliver him his first defeat at my hands. So I apologize for ruining yet another night of killing street level gangsters and dealers, a foolish endeavor that overlooks the root of American crime; inequity and an amoral citizenry that creates a demand for all this evil. It is the society that breeds this citizenry that needs to be obliterated. Accomplish that, and the crime disappears on its own."

"Inequity?" The Hood snarled back in exaggerated confusion. "This coming from little Prince Al Ghul?"

"I'm exceptional. The exceptional should be rewarded as it falls on them to guide the masses and protect them from themselves." The Devil arrogantly sneered as several of the wraiths descended to the roof and collapsed their wings, revealing them to be ninjas in flying battle suits pulling out melee and handheld projectile weapons. "So yes, I have been awarded ample resources by which to achieve my mission, and my mission is to utterly destroy my father, brother," the boy paused a moment and growled out the next two words, "my sister, and all the other foundlings that serve his delusional goals. Be counted in that number if you so choose, but choose now. I've long since become weary of serving your ambitions."

Jason turned toward the battle going on not far from them and noticed that his adoptive father and older brother were still on the defensive, but had managed to take out several of their attackers. "I'm not with them." He then turned and marched toward the edge of the roof. "But I'm not with you either." The Red Hood jumped off and disappeared.

"Too bad." The Jersey Devil whispered to himself. "I had grown to like him." He then marched toward the fight going on, stooped down to remove the winged battle suit from an unconscious ninja, gracefully got himself into it, and then called out to Gotham's protectors. "Beating your daughter was an invitation. Initially I assumed it would have been my brother to have accepted it, but I'm glad it was you, Father." The Jersey Devil then clapped twice and the ninjas all backed off, their number now half of what it was at the onset of the battle, the rest lay unconscious all over the rooftop. "I have your attention. I will maintain your attention for the remainder of your life, which unfortunately will not last that much longer. Damian weakly longed for a father in his life and allowed that weakness to force him down your path. I remained strong, and am now seeing to it that my grandfather's vision for a return to the natural world be realized. Your band aid remedies have failed, it is time for a real return to justice." Devlin then walked to the edge of the building. "Good bye Father." He leapt off, and the conscious ninjas followed after him.

XXX

"Is he prepared?" Kleandra asked as she approached an unmasked Batman in what appeared to be an Amazonian library.

"He is aware of everything Diana knows of Hades and his domain." Damian replied. "All he needs is rest, which he is obtaining now."

"He certainly is." Kleandra muttered as she came to a stop next to the large man as he was sitting down, looking over data on a computer terminal. "Even with numerous Amazons gathered around him, he barely stirs while sleeping."

"He's a growing boy worked to the limits of physical and mental exertion." Damian replied. "Deep sleep is a necessity."

"I was surprised that Diana granted you access to our annals." Kleandra mentioned. "What is it that you are studying?"

"The details of the blast that went off on your island." Batman replied, still focused on the information in front of him. "And it shouldn't be that surprising. Queen Diana had a tremendous amount of respect and affection for my father, and knows quite well that despite whatever flaws I may have had, he would never allow me to become The Batman were I not worthy of the mantle."

"Mm-hmmm." Kleandra replied. "You're interested in the isotope fingerprint of the explosive device?"

"Yes." The exposed-faced Batman replied. "That the nuke originated in Iran is without doubt. But they were quite vehement in their claims that the weapon has been stolen from their stockpile, and that the QUD's agent the Amazons claimed to be responsible for delivering and detonating it was innocent."

"I'm not of your world, but from what I understand of it, Ahmadinejad would have vehemently protested claims that Persian sand is gritty, summers in Tehran are hot, or that his farts bore an unpleasant odor." Kleandra replied, which elicited a chuckle from Damian.

"That is true, but for whatever reason their arguments seemed sincere to me at the time." Damian responded, then raised his wrist and pulled a tiny wire from his gauntlet, jacking it into the Amazon computer. "And while it has been quite some time since you've been there, you are of my world."

Kleandra stepped back and stared at Damian with a mixture of surprise and anger. "What are you talking about, I am an Amazon!"

"Yes, yes you are." Damian replied as he focused on accessing data from the computer built into his suit through the terminal in front of him. "And like most other Amazons, you are the reborn spirit of a woman murdered by a man." The Batman paused and looked up at her. "Or rather, the reborn spirit of a girl murdered by a man." Damian returned his focus to the computer screen. "Though I was unaware of Amazons retaining memories of their previous lives. Your knowledge and affection for my brother would indicate that you still have some of yours."

"I do not know what you are talking about." Kleandra whispered unconvincingly.

"Perhaps it has something to do with you being reborn into an exact recreation of your murdered body." Damian continued, ignoring Kleandra's assertion. "At least I assume it was an exact recreation. You were six when you were killed, and nearly twelve years later you would look as you look now. But I think your situation is a rarity in that regard. I truly doubt that all the murdered women that were used to create the Amazon race were as beautiful as the forms they currently inhabit. And they certainly didn't possess the physical power of their Amazonian bodies; physical powers that you do not seem to possess."

"Our strengths vary greatly." Kleandra snarled. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Damian continued on. "Perhaps the deviations are due to your existence stemming from the deal Donna made with Hades, and not a collective effort of numerous ultra-metas that you refer to as gods. Or rather, that the other Amazons refer to as gods." Damian twisted his head marginally up toward her. "Do you still give homage to the Changing Woman and other Navajo deities?"

"Enough!" Kleandra growled as she grabbed Damian's shoulder and turned his body and chair toward her, the woman clearly angry, frustrated, and saddened.

Damian looked up at her and his eyes softened, offering the rare look of compassion. "My brother has a framed picture of you in his house. He has taking me to your father's house numerous times throughout the years, a house with dozens of your photographs. I have looked upon your face many times, I have even used your image and what happened to you as inspiration for being a better crime fighter."

Kleandra's face twisted angrily at first, but then she gave in to her sorrow and burst into tears, dropping to a squatting position as she wept in front of the costumed man. Damian paused at first, but then placed one hand on her shoulder consolingly. After a few moments he placed his other hand on her other shoulder, and then gently stood them both up and pulled her into an embrace. Kleandra was resistant at first, but eventually acquiesced, weeping for several moments into Damian's shoulder. After a couple of minutes she calmed down and gently pulled away from him. "I apologize for my loss of composure."

"Do not apologize, Lian." Damian replied. "I am, for several reasons, not as emotionally sensitive as I should be. Our presence here undoubtedly stirred up many feelings within you, and then my factual rundown of painful events in your life was delivered with a complete obliviousness to their impact upon you. It is partially due to my early upbringing, and partially due to being Batman. But whatever the case, I'm sorry to have dealt with this matter so heartlessly."

Lian stared at him. "No need for you to apologize either, Damian." She then turned toward the computer screen, more as a way to break the sudden tension between the two of them, a tension that was very different from the tension that had existed prior. "So what exactly are you hoping to find?"

Damian slid back into his seat and focused on the screen. "I've traced the isotopic fingerprint of the weapon to the facility that housed it."

"Which is, of course, in Iran." Lian replied. 

"Yes…" Damian said as something on the screen caught his attention, "I know that name."

"What?"

Damian began typing furiously at the keyboard. "The name of one of the scientists working at the facility. He was an operative for the League."

"What, the Justice League was using a spy to get info…"

"Not the Justice League, the League of Assassins." Damian interrupted. He then spun in his chair and stared up at the young woman. "Please tell me you have surveillance footage of the QUDs operative that delivered the weapon."

"We do, but it will have to wait." Queen Diana announced as she entered the room with John, dressed in a toga, at her side. Her hand was placed gently on his shoulder, and she looked down and smiled at the boy. "Our young Robin is awake and insists he's ready for his quest."

XXX

"Can't say I'm surprised it's just the two of you returning." Tim chuckled as he swiveled away from the computer terminal in the Batcave to see Batman and Nightwing getting out of the Batmobile. "I tried telling Alfred that'd be the case, but he prepared a room none the less."

Bruce pulled his mask off as he approached Oracle, his face displaying a few minor bruises. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope, the man is eternally optimistic." Tim replied. "So, did you give your son a spanking?"

"He had fourteen ninjas in modified versions of Marine Aviantry battle suits waiting for us." Dick replied.

"Figures, that's what Ras would do." Tim replied. "So, how much did he look like Damian?"

"Don't know, he wore the devil mask the whole time." Dick replied. "But his voice was dead on. He didn't try to disguise it for us like he did for Helena."

"Any word from Damian?" Bruce cut off the conversation.

"He sent word an hour ago that they had made contact safely and are in the midst of negotiations. He also requested me to transport several pieces of equipment and one of our experimental suits to the Themysciran transporter pad, apparently they were willing to reactivate it for him temporarily." Tim replied. "I asked what he needed it for, he just told me not to worry and that he'd explain everything later. He's normally brusque, but even by his standards he's leaving out a lot of details."

"You're concerned by that?" Bruce asked.

Tim thought for a moment before replying. "Well, knowing him, I'm betting he's in the midst of doing something insanely risky, and doesn't want to hear us tell him not to go through with it."

XXX

The stealth suit wasn't invisible, that technology was still several years away, but it did conceal John quite well through the use of its thousands of micro-cameras, projection screens, and light refracting technology, as he made his way through Tartarus. He slipped past the boiling pits of magma, the all-encompassing light gray suit protected him from the scalding steam that was vented up all over the realm, and after miles of a nightmarish wasteland and evading the occasional demon, he finally caught sight of the jagged castle in the distance.

John made for the structure, initially hiding from the various lost souls crying out in anguish, but quickly realized that they had no interest in him. He eventually reached the castle, and noted that those in and around it seemed more corporeal than the souls on the outskirts. Using tools in his belt, the only fully viewable part on him, he shot a hook up to a window and pulled himself inside the structure. He had just started making his way down a dark corridor when he heard something and leapt, kicked off the wall to his left, propelled himself upward toward the other wall and reached up, barely getting a handhold of a stone windowsill. As soon as he hoisted himself up and out of view he noticed a Cerberus walking toward where he had just been. He silently watched until the three-headed dog had passed from view, thankful that the suit contained any odors that the animal could have picked up on.

After about twenty minutes of searching through the vast castle, John came upon a large banquet hall, deserted but for one lone, skeletal figure. John clung to the walls and shadows as he attempted to make his way around the figure undetected, but half way through John's trek the man called out several words John couldn't quite make out. They were in Greek, a language John spoke, but the dialect was foreign to John's ears. The figure turned its head to peer directly into the shadow that John was currently hiding in, and spoke again, this time in an older, but understandable dialect of Greek. "Who be you? Nothing changes in this horrid place for centuries, so I detect the slightest shift in the air." John stepped forth from the shadows. He had been detected, so he needed to either convince this individual to remain silent, or John would have to silence him. "Why have you come here, when there is nothing but death and misery to be gained."

John removed his mask and approached the frail figure, noting that he appeared to be confined to the chair by snakes emerging from the floor and wrapped around his lower legs and the legs of the chair. "I am here to rescue Donna Troy."

The captive man laughed, his pained and weakened voice coming out as little more than a series of gasps. "Good, then I will have company. You may occupy that chair for all eternity." The man said, pointing a bony finger to the chair next to him. "Perhaps you thought your youth would play upon the dark lord's mercy. A mistake, child, for Hades has no mercy, and a savage hatred for those coming down here to steal a bride." The frail man waved over his shackled legs. "Trust me, I know of what I speak."

"Who are you?" John asked.

"I once went by the name Pirithous, though I doubt that means anything to you." The now despondent prisoner replied. "Thousands of years have passed since I last walked amongst men."

"You were Pirithous, King of the Lapiths?" John questioned, remembering the stories of ancient Greek legends that his mother had read to him when he was younger, as he truly focused on the snakes binding him to the stone chair. "Friend of Theseus, right?"

A toothy smile emerged from the bony face. "You've heard of me?"

"I'm familiar with the myths, including…well, the predicament you are in now." John explained, barely able to believe it.

"So you know of the punishment of taking the bride of a god, and yet you come down here none the less?" The fleshed skeleton chuckled. "Foolish child."

"Donna is not the bride of Hades!" John snarled. "She offered to be his prisoner, not his wife."

"Persephone offered to be neither, but that did not stop Lord Hades from claiming her, and punishing me when I came to free her." Pirithous chuckled.

"Your intent was not to free me, fool," a feminine voice called out from the other end of the banquet hall, causing both John and Pirithous to shudder with surprise, "it was for me to exchange Hades' lecherous prison for yours!"

"Ah, beloved Persephone, it has been too long.."

"Silence!" The Queen of the Underworld barked out an interruption to Pirithous's intended greeting as she glared hatefully at the intruder. "So you are here to lay claim to Donna Troy." Her eyes narrowed with skepticism as she took in the boy's appearance. "Are you even old enough to attain an erection?"

John nervously chuckled. "Yes Madam, it's getting rid of one that's the challenge."

"Do not be flip with me, boy!" Persephone snapped. "So what were you planning on doing? Did you bring another one of those sight-obscuring suits for your bride to be?"

"She's my godmother, I have no romantic interest in her." John clarified respectfully, his voice devoid of fear. "And no, this suit only shields me because Hades is not already alerted to my presence. To get Donna out, I need…"

"The Helm of Darkness." Persephone smiled as she could tell from the boy's expression that she was right. "So you plan to steal not only my husband's latest concubine, but his most prized weapon as well? You are a foolish child."

"He can have the Helm back once Donna is returned to those that love her." John replied. "I have no interest in it beyond it being a means to free her."

Persephone walked forward until she was standing before John, staring him in the eye. "You are telling the truth, aren't you?"

"Yes, Persephone." John replied humbly.

"I believe you, but still…" Persephone reached up and touched the boy's face. John suddenly was awash in a flood of all of his memories coming up to the forefront of his mind, as Persephone invaded his mind and took in all the details of his life. The goddess exhaled as she pulled her hand away and took a step back. "For a mortal, you truly are surrounded by exceptional beings."

"I know." John replied, slightly angry and frightened at having his thoughts so easily picked.

"Relax, John Grayson, I mean you no harm." The Queen of the Underworld turned to peer at the doorway that she had entered through. "In fact, I suspect that I regret my intrusion into your mind more that you do. I am now inclined to assist you."

"My beloved, why are you aiding this stranger who seeks to help the Amazon, and not I," Pirithous protested, "one who only sought to offer you my love."

"You sought to claim me!" Persephone snarled. "To make me a possession, a trophy bride, a daughter of Zeus to claim as your own! This child is pure! His desire to remove the Amazon princess is altruistic,"

"Well," John started to offer a correction.

"I am aware of your initial desire for the Themyscirans to intervene against the Atlanteans, but your decision to come here had nothing to do with that, so it truly is altruistic." Persephone replied. "I will occupy my husband," Persephone held out her hands and a fire burst forth from her palms, burning out and leaving a wrinkled parchment map in her grasp, "this will lead you to the Helm and then to Donna Troy's chambers. Make haste, young Grayson, my husband bores quickly, and wearing down the Amazon's resolve not to submit to him has been a favorite activity of his these last twelve years."

John bowed his head. "How can I repay you?"

Persephone stepped toward him. "You've put a hole in my wall of cynicism, and restored at least a portion on my faith in your species. It pleases me to assist one such as you. So return Donna Troy to her people, and I will consider that payment enough. Fail, and you will be serving my husband and I for all eternity."

John nodded and pulled the face mask back over his head.

X

Donna Troy gazed out her barred window at the desolate wasteland of Tartarus, and pitied the aimless, tortured souls traversing the barren rocks and rivers of lava. The familiar squeak of her door opening let her know that another round of defying the advances of Hades was about to begin. "Back off Hades, today is not going to be the day."

"I'm not Hades." The muffled voice came from the hallway leading from the door to her bedroom.

Donna turned and noted the shimmering, barely visible movement of something making its way across the room, the only way that Donna was able to get a fix on its position so quickly was the helmet that it seemed to be carrying. "What kind of lost soul are you?" She asked.

The entity seemed to shuffle near the top of itself and a moment later the face of a handsome boy seemed to be floating above the shimmering nothingness. "I'm here to get you out of here."

Donna stared at the child. "Some strange young child here to rescue me?" She started chuckling. "Hades' ruses are definitely getting more interesting."

"This isn't a ruse, and I'm not a stranger." The boy replied. "We've met."

"Oh, when?" The skeptical Donna replied, but seemed to grasp the answer as she gazed into all-too-familiar blue eyes.

"Twelve and a half years ago, when I was born and my father asked you to be my godmother." The boy replied.

"Johnny!" Donna gasped and rushed forward, embracing the child.

"Actually, I came to Themyscira on official business, so perhaps you should call me Robin." John smiled. He then noted Donna looking him up and down, the smile slowly ebbing from her face. "No, this isn't my Robin costume, this is an experimental stealth suit Damian and Tim have been working on. I've only got the one, but I have this Helm of Darkness for you. It apparently works even better than my suit."

"You shouldn't be here." Donna muttered. "You need to go."

"No kidding, Aunt Donna, so let's go." John replied, placing his hand on the woman's shoulder to encourage her to come with him.

"No, you need to leave before Hades realizes you've been here!" Donna insisted. "Leave me the Helm, I'll tell him I stole it to antagonize him. He'll have no problem believing that."

"I'm not leaving without you!" John protested. "Persephone said she'll keep him busy, but couldn't guarantee for how long."

"Persephone?" A surprised and agitated Donna replied. "You trust that bit…woman?"

"She was going to skewer me, she thought I came here to kidnap you so that…" the boy blushed.

"I'd be your wife?" Donna guessed, and chuckled as the boy looked down and nodded. "Relax, it was a common theme in ancient Greece, and Persephone hasn't gotten out much in the last few thousand years. So what stayed her hand?"

"She scanned my memories and realized I just wanted to free you, not claim you like Pirithous tried to claim her." John replied. "She was a little surprised by my lack of ulterior motive."

"She's unaccustomed to encountering good people." Donna replied as she gently stroked the boy's cheek and then took the helmet from him. "And if you're anything like your parents, then she just encountered one of the best."

John looked at the helmet in Donna's hands and smiled. "So this means you're coming?"

"Of course." Donna smiled back at the boy and the two headed toward the door.

"Good. And truth be told, Damian and Bruce have had more influence on me than my father for the last few months." John whispered as they exited the room and made their way down the hallway.

"I'm a little surprised to hear that you're Robin." Donna replied.

"Well, I'm actually Robin in training." John whispered back as they scanned a vacant room before sprinting across it. "It'll be a couple more months before I'm officially the bird sidekick."

"You mother seemed so dead set against it when you were an infant." Donna asked as they continued through the vast castle. "What does she have to say about this?"

John peered out a window and scrutinized the area to see if that would be a good point to exit the structure. "Well, if we get lost on the way out and find ourselves in Elysium, you'll be able to ask her yourself." The boy started to climb the ledge of the window to get out, but felt the hand of Donna on his shoulder. He turned to face her, knowing what he'd see but was still nearly brought to the point of tears at seeing the utter sadness in her eyes.

She pulled him to her and embraced him tightly. "I'm so sorry John. How? When?"

John pulled back. "Hit and run, four months ago." He then turned back to the window. "We really should stay on task until we're out of Tartarus."

"Of course."

XXX

"Are you out of your goddamned mind?" Dick's enraged voice thundered out of the speaker of the Justice League javelin on the beach.

"I have faith in the boy's abilities and resourcefulness." Damian calmly replied, looking over at the expression of recognition on Kleandra's face. She had heard Dick's voice many times a lifetime ago, when she was a child named Lian Harper, the daughter of one of Dick's best friends and teammates.

"You sent him to Hell, not gang territory!" Dick roared back. "I was wary of you taking him to Themyscira, but that made at least a shred of sense. But having him trek into Tartarus…alone? What could possess you to do something so stupid?"

"I cannot go into details at this moment, Brother, but rest assured, I will see to his safe return." Damian replied.

"You'd better, Damian!" Dick snarled.

"In the meantime, I'm transmitting a theory I'd like to bounce of you, Drake and my father, along with the accompanying data. I'm certain it's valid, and even likely, but I want you to follow up from home while I'm here just to confirm my suspicions." Damian requested.

"Receiving now," Dick replied, "we'll work on this, you get John back now!"

"Yes Brother."

XXX

"What are those things?" John asked the invisible woman next to him as they looked up at flying feminine demons in the distance.

"Furies." Donna replied. "I'm pretty sure they'll see us. The Helm should keep me fully invisible, but your suit isn't quite as convincing."

"Maybe I can draw them away so you can get out." John suggested.

"Very noble, now quit being an idiot." Donna replied. "No matter what you're getting out of here, and I'd better not hear you entertaining another plan that doesn't involve that."

"OK, then how about I draw their attention and you sneak up behind them and hit them on the head with a frying pan?" John then suggested.

"Better," Donna replied, "yeah, let's make a break for it, the exit is just a head a few hundred yards. We'll get as far as we can before they spot you, and when they do come after you, I'll surprise them."

"Shway. Let me just pull some weapons out for the big surprise." John replied. "Ready?"

"Yup, follow my lead." Donna responded.

"Can't, you're invisible." John answered. "You follow mine." With that the boy leapt from around the boulder that the two of them had been perched behind and silently sprinted toward the mouth of a cave in the distance.

The boy got to within a hundred yards of the opening before several of the furies screeched at seeing him and sped toward him. Just as one was about to pounce upon him, the boy twisted and flung a high-tech bolo up at it that bound the demon's wings together, causing it to shoot over him and crash across the rocky ground. A second fury set upon him, but was immediately smashed by an unseen force and splattered against the ground. John noted the destruction of the creature and called out. "Do these things qualify as living beings?"

"Not in my book!" The invisible Donna called back as she battered another Fury out of the air.

"Glad to hear it!" John called out as he flipped over a Fury swooping down to get him and flinging a bladed Batarang back toward it, slicing through its neck, creating a not-quite fatal injury.

"WHAT GOES ON HERE?" A thunderous voice bellowed out in ancient Greek as an eight feet five inch tall man with black hair and flowing black robes appeared suddenly before the mouth of the cave, what the Amazons referred to at Doom's Doorway, that led back to Themyscira. John looked up at the black-eyed man, knowing instantly that he had no chance against the dark god of the underworld. "COME TO ME!" John felt himself being hurled forward toward Hades, the front of his suit clamped tightly by the god's grasp.

"Release him!" The invisible Donna bellowed as she laid a right cross against Hades' jaw and pulled the boy from his grasp, causing the suit to tear and the partial invisibility it provided to cease.

Hades laughed as he turned his head back toward the boy being lowered to the ground. "Ah, and here I thought this was just another pathetic attempt by your sister to save you. But for you to have gotten this far, and claimed my Helm in the process, well, I am impressed with your young friend, Donna Troy." A relaxed and amused Hades called out. "I should know his name, as he will be with us for the rest of eternity."

"Guess again!" The growled voice emerged from behind Hades, who turned as Batman flipped over his head. John dove toward a rock, having assumed, and then visually verified that his uncle had planted an explosive device to the back of the ancient Greek god. Both the humans took cover as the blast echoed off the cavern walls. Hades twisted back around and glared toward the Batman, but turned back toward the mouth of the cave as the sounds of Amazon warriors barreling through the Doorway caught his attention. "Troy, get him out of here!" Batman roared as both he and Robin rose and began flinging various explosives and other weapons at Hades.

The dark god swung outwardly and roared, tossing aside over a dozen Amazons and shrugging off the ordinance of the human males as if it were nothing. John continued hurling weapons at Hades as he made his way to a different angle, examining everything he saw in an attempt to determine a course of action that might lead to victory. He was suddenly swept off the ground by the unseen Donna Troy and whisked past Hades, who was momentarily busy exchanging blows with Diana., a horde of furies sweeping toward them from the depths of Tartarus. "Know that if I lose one daughter of Zeus this day, Diana, another will take her place in my domain!"

"An exchange which I will be happy with should I be forced to accept it," Wonder Woman roared back as she landed a cross to the side of Hades' head, "so long as my sister is free!"

"It won't come to that!" Batman snarled as he one again leapt upon Hades with the intention of planting an explosive to the god, but Hades reacted faster than Damian could imagine, and flung the man away from him before Batman could even touch him.

"Mortal, attend to my furies, you are beneath me!" Hades called out as he leveled Diana with a strike and then battered away a half dozen other Amazons before vanishing and reappearing before the exit just as Donna and John were getting there. "This ends now!"

"You're right about that!" Batman growled as he pushed a button on a control panel mounted on his left gauntlet. All the Amazons but Donna dove for cover, and John grabbed her and pulled her off to the side behind an outcropping of rocks as Hades was blasted away from the mouth of the cave. On the other side was an array of mounted weaponry, smoke coiling out from the various barrels. "Now Robin!"

Robin and Donna darted around the outcropping of rock as Batman reached down to grab a sword dropped by one of the Amazons and turned to face the three dozen furies bearing down on them. The Dark Knight smiled as he tapped into his vast storehouse of knowledge regarding the utter destruction of human and human-like bodies; knowledge that he had been unable to utilize for over a decade and a half. The first three furies fell upon him, and two decapitated and one halved fury collided with the ground a moment later. The six closest to their slain comrades screeched horribly before attacking Batman, but like the first three, a series of fluid movements and manipulation of the sword left them all slain and crumpled upon the stony ground. Six more set upon him, and they too wound up slaughtered.

"Mortal, I am impressed!" Hades called out as he swatted away several Amazons attempting to capitalize on his momentary vulnerability after being blown away from the mouth of the cave, watching the Batman decimate his furies with apparent ease as he did so. "Your strength and speed may not exceed the limits of a human body, but your skill level surpasses that of even Achilles."

"I must admit," Batman growled out as he disemboweled another fury, "I'm not all that surprised to hear you say that."

"You may very well be a greater combatant than the Batman I am familiar with." Hades replied as he once again squared off against Diana. "You're too young to be him, but you must be of his blood; you smell as he did."

"Impressive nose." Damian snapped back as he sliced through another fury.

"Enough!" Hades called out, backing away from Diana as he did so. He sent a glare to the remaining furies, who shrieked and then flew off, back into the depths of Tartarus. Hades then peered at Diana. "Your sister has escaped, and though I would love to possess you, you and your Amazons are free to leave."

Diana bowed her head. "Thank you Lord Hades."

Hades then turned to Batman. "Though impressed by your bravery and tremendous skill, I am inclined to spend centuries torturing you for your impertinence. But I will stay my enraged hand out of gratitude for a deed done by your father." Hades marched forward and stood before Batman, glaring down at him. "A god from another planet, one intent, and I fear capable, of enslaving this planet, including myself and the other gods of Olympus, was defeated, and critically wounded by your father. His intervention against the being Darkseid sixteen years ago was tremendously beneficial to me, so because of his actions, I will allow you and your young colleague to leave without further harm."

Damian met the gaze of the god, strongly considering telling Hades that he needed no charity, and that he'd find a way to overwhelm the dark god, but then realized that they'd achieved what they set out to achieve and that there was too much at stake for him to give into his pride. "Thank you Lord Hades."

"Now leave my realm. Those that choose to remain will do so permanently." Hades snapped before vanishing.

They all gathered outside Doom's Doorway, the ecstatic Amazons gathering around Donna and greeting her for the first time in over a decade. Damian marched over to John, who was gingerly removing his suit. John looked up at his partner and smiled weakly. "Sorry about the suit."

Damian removed his mask, cocked an eyebrow and displayed a lopsided grin. "Are you apologizing Nephew?"

John held portions of the torn battle suit up for his uncle, who reached over, pulled the boy toward him and directed his gaze toward Donna and Diana running toward each other and embracing. Their embrace lasted twenty seconds before Kleandra stepped next to them and placed her hand on Donna's arm. Donna looked up and saw her, a look of disbelief coming over her. "Lian?" She wept as she grabbed Lian and the two embraced for the first time since before Lian's death, over fifteen years before.

"You should not be apologizing Robin." Damian stated as they watched the reunion. "You facilitated all of this," Damian squeezed the boy's shoulder affectionately, "and perhaps much more as well."

Another Amazon, one not involved in the battle approached Diana and handed her several photographs. The Amazon queen then turned toward the two males and marched over to them. "Contact the Watchtower, and inform them that you will be returning with a delegation from Themyscira." Batman smiled and nodded. "And here are the surveillance photographs we got of the bomber before he detonated the explosive device on our island twelve years ago."

Batman took the pictures and peered intently at the one on top. "Your highness, the weapon that ravaged your island was manufactured in Iran, and this man may have been a QUDs agent, but I believe that the weapon was not in Iranian possession when it was brought here, and I know that this man's loyalties were not to the Republic of Iran. The Iranians were not responsible for detonating that weapon here," he turned and peered intently into Diana's shocked eyes, "my grandfather was."

X

"Yeah, I'm here." Roy Harper grumbled into the speaker. "I had just fallen asleep when Superman contacted me and said that it was critical that me, Ollie and Dinah were here as well. Hell, Ollie's no longer League! Why did you drag him out of bed?"

From inside the javelin Batman just smiled. "Trust me Arsenal, you'll all thank me for dragging you up to the Watchtower for this."

"Batman," Superman's voice came through, "I've got you on inbound on the sensor equipment, you are cleared to proceed to hangar bay six."

"Understood." Batman replied, directing the javelin toward the orbiting headquarters and further directing it toward the hangar in question. A few minutes later the craft was touching down on the metal floor and the hatch was opening. Batman and Robin were first to exit the craft, followed by Diana. Diana ran forward and hugged Superman, obscuring Robin's view of the Kryptonian, which was the first time that the boy would have seen Superman in person.

A moment later Donna exited the craft with a hesitant and weeping Kleandra right behind her. "Donna!" Roy shouted out and ran to her. "Great to see you again!" He hugged her, barely glancing at the other woman. "Who's your friend?" He asked, finally turning his gaze toward the other woman and taking on a stunned look. "Hhh…"

"Roy," Donna reached over and gently clasped Kleandra's arm, "I know it seems impossible, but,"

"Daddy!" Lian leaped into her father's arms.

"Lian?" Roy pulled back just enough to peer into her face. "Lian!" He broke down crying and he pulled her tight into his chest.

"Lian?" Ollie and Dinah questioned in unison as they sprinted over to Roy and Lian.

John watched the family reunion commence, but felt his uncle's hand gently squeeze his shoulder. "Well done Robin." He turned up to see his partner smile down at him and then turn and walk toward Wonder Woman and Superman, the three of them turning and heading off to discuss official matters in another room. John considered walking over to Lian and the others, but caught sight of several computer terminals and thought of something.

A minute and a half later Robin was in a vacant room, looking at large Cray supercomputer. "Computer, have records been uploaded from the computers in the Batcave?"

"Affirmative." The feminine computerized voice replied. "Most recent syncing occurred September 16, 2023."

"A couple years out of date, but it'll do." Robin muttered. "Computer, access Batcave file eight two four nine seven."

"File accessed."

Robin sat down at the seat in front of the main terminal. "Open file." John worked his way through the file, reading the reports fully before working up his nerve and opening the attached photographs. His blood ran cold as he looked at the pictures of his mother, disrobed, bleeding, newly crippled and writhing in pain. An aspect that wasn't shown in the pictures, but one that John was fully aware was present, was the grinning monster taking the photos, the man responsible for doing this to his mother. She was so young. Her legs looked so muscular, so steady, durable and strong. Everything else ceased to exist for John, he was only aware of what he was seeing before him, and an odd ringing in his ears, something that may or may not be psychological, but something he knew was not being generated outside his body.

Every part of his body seemed to be made of lead, but he forced his fingers to continue clicking, through the pictures, then finally to a video clip of his naked grandfather being dragged by a leash into a carnival ride car. The shot changed to show him going through the ride, the pictures John had just looked through being displayed to the horrified father of the Joker's victim, that evil bastard singing a horrible song that was barely comprehensible due to the quality of the footage. It finally ended, and John stared silently at the screen for what seemed an eternity before finally sensing a presence behind him. Robin didn't look away from the screen, but addressed the other person. "Jason was right. I want him dead."

"As do I." Batman replied emotionlessly from behind him. "I abide by and honor all of my father's rules, but that doesn't mean that I agree with them."

"I want to kill him." Robin whispered, seemingly ignoring what Batman had to say. "I want to feel his bones collapsing beneath my fists. I want to see the damage accumulate on and in his body. I want to turn that white skin purple from the broken vessels and pooled blood underneath it." Robin stood up and turned around to face his mentor, and then let loose the rage boiling within him. "I WANT THE BASTARD DEAD!" The boy yelled at the emotionless Batman.

A moment later a red and blue flash entered the room and Superman was standing next to Batman. "Is everything alright here?" The confused Kryptonian asked. His eyes then glided up to the computer monitors, and a look of comprehension came over him; not that Batman and Robin noticed, as their eyes were locked onto one another's. "Perhaps we should leave this room, huh guys?" Superman reached out and cupped Robin's shoulder, guiding him to the open door.

Once in the hallway Robin stopped and stared down at the floor. "I…I apologize for misusing Justice League equipment. I saw an opportunity. I…I have no excuse." John stammered, then turned and looked up at Superman, seeing the face of the legend up close for the first time. "I'm sorry."

Superman smiled and nodded. "It's understandable Robin. And after what you did today, I suppose we can overlook this incident, right Batman?"

"Keeping this file from the boy was for his own good, it causes no damage to anyone other than him…and perhaps the Joker, but to hell with that monster." Batman replied. "Plus, we've almost been encouraging him to try and get access to this file in an attempt to promote his hacking skills. If anything, I'm proud of him for out-maneuvering Oracle and myself." Batman then gently slapped his partner on the back. "Well done Robin."

To the surprise of both grown men, the boy remained rigidly staring up at Superman's face, completely unmoving in any way until his hand slowly raised to his mask, gently tapped a button on the side which retracted the lenses, allowing his eyes to gaze upon Superman's face naturally, a look of recognition now clearly on Robin's face. "No way."

Superman quickly realized what had happened, and nervously shifted. Batman realized it as well, and let out a laugh. "Father was right, it IS the world's worst disguise!"

X

Dick opened his front door to reveal Damian and John standing on the front porch in the dead of night, both of them soaked from walking from the car to the house in the torrential rain. Dick stepped aside to allow both of them in. John seemed in a daze as he made his way into the foyer, not seeing the look of unrestrained pride in his father's eyes. "Roy called. He told me everything. How Diana's already contacted Atlantis and is planning on visiting there on our behalf, of how you saved Donna, and of…Lian. It's all so unbelievable."

"Yup, not bad for a neophyte." Damian added.

"Helluva job, son." Dick smiled at his boy, who was still staring straight ahead. Surprised by his son's detachment, Dick looked to Damian for explanation.

Damian shook his head. "Roy didn't tell you everything." Damian nodded for Dick to follow him and then headed down the hall to the study, leaving John alone in the foyer.

The men were gone for a couple of minutes before John heard something on the other side of the door. He turned and instinctively opened it. Standing there, soaking wet and preparing to knock, was Laura Kent, not wearing her glasses for once. Startled, her eyes shot to his, a look of fear and confusion in her eyes. John stared blankly at her. "Laura?" He then seemed to wake up. "Come in. What are you doing here?"

Laura stepped into the house, her eyes still glued to his. John shut the door, and the two stared at each other silently for a few moments before Laura's face twisted into an almost angry expression. "I'm not a freak!" She growled.

"What?" The confused boy asked.

"Yes, I'm half alien, so if you have a problem with that, then fine!" She growled defensively as she stepped toward him. "If you can't handle it, then end it. No hard feelings, I don't blame you, but I'm not a freak!"

"I never said…"

"No, but you're probably thinking it!" She interrupted.

"Yes Lois, she's here." Dick said as he walked through the hallway toward the foyer, stopping to open a linen closet and pull out a towel, his cell phone pressed to the side of his face. "She's soaked, and she'll need some new shoes," the statement prompted the children to look down and notice that the sprint from Metropolis had ground the bottoms of Laura's shoes to powder, "but otherwise she seems to be fine." Dick got to the foyer, with Damian following behind him, and tossed the towel to Laura. "Sure, we'll be expecting him."

Laura caught the towel, but continued to glare at John. Suddenly the look of confusion on John's face shifted toward one of anger. "I can't deal with this right now!" The boy turned away and started walking into the family room. "I went to Hell, and that was probably the highlight of my goddamed day! Yeah, I realize you're Superman's daughter, but it hasn't even registered that you're half alien! Hell, I doubt I'll care in the least when it does register." He then spun, his eyes intensely staring at his girlfriend. "But it'll be awhile before that information gets a chance to be processed, Laura. I've got some other shit weighing me down right now, and the last thing I need is for you to direct these newly formed insecurities at me!"

The statement was immediately followed by a knock at the door. Dick walked over and opened it, to reveal Clark Kent, soaking wet and free of glasses just like his daughter. Clark smiled and nodded as he walked into the house.

Laura seemed oblivious to her father's presence, just continuing to stare at her boyfriend. "What's going on John?" The house was silent, John considered whether to tell her or not, and if so, how to go about doing so. But when he looked up at her, the look on Laura's face gave the impression that she was already listening to someone speaking to her. John was a little confused by her expression, one that involved her eyes darting to the side and her ear's perking to apparently listen to something. It was then that he saw Mr. Kent's lips moving, it looked as though he was talking, but nothing audible to him was coming out of the man's mouth. John then realized that Mr. Kent was whispering something to his daughter so quietly that only Kryptonian, or half-Kryptonian ears could hear. The boy considered attempting to read the man's lips, something he had been trained to do, but he just didn't feel the urge to do so. Instead he turned his attention back to Laura's face, and saw the look of surprise, and then sadness come over it. She turned her horrified gaze back toward him, a tear forming in the corner of one of her eyes and then running down her cheek. "Oh my God. John…" she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug, slowly crying on his shoulder.

"Come on Clark, let's give these two a couple minutes." Dick said, directing the other two men toward the kitchen. "I'll get you something to drink."

Laura eventually released her embrace and took a step back from John. The boy looked down. "Your father explained what I saw."

Laura nodded. "I'm so sorry John."

"He can hear what we're saying now, can't he?" John muttered.

"He's more than capable of it, but he can tune it out too." Laura said. "Which I'm sure he's doing now. He wouldn't eaves drop on us, especially since us doing bad things is probably the last thing on our minds right now."

"Good." John whispered. "Because I need to tell someone, and I want that to be you." He looked up and peered intently into her eyes. "I need your word that you won't share this with anyone. Ever, no matter what."

Laura nodded. "You have it."

"I'm going to kill the Joker."


End file.
